


(fucked my way) to the top

by perropascal



Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Affairs, Drama & Romance, F/M, Max is gonna take care of you, Maxwell Lord Being an Asshole, Maxwell lord is a romantic bastard, Office Party, Office Sex, Public Display of Affection, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sugar Daddy, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, kinda an affair like its a whole thing, maxwell lord spoils you rotten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27851234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perropascal/pseuds/perropascal
Summary: When you started working for Maxwell Lord, the wealthy New York business tycoon, you never expected it to be anything more than an impressive stint on your resume. But your modest demeanor happens to catch Mr. Lord’s wandering eye and you quickly find that your job is the least of your worries.
Relationships: Maxwell Lord/You
Comments: 42
Kudos: 85





	1. pretty when you cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find out just how much you mean to Maxwell Lord.

____♡____

It was another beautiful Sunday night in New York City.

You’re nearly finished with your shift at the dive bar you work at on the weekends for some extra spending cash. You count out your cash tips and tuck them neatly in your bag, grateful to be done and heading home to a warm bed and hopefully sleep. You look around and give one final goodbye to Jared, the bar’s owner. He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence as you push yourself onto the dark New York City streets and release a deep sigh.

Sunday night. In New York City. Nothing could beat it.

But…

That means tomorrow is Monday. Which means it’s another Monday of another week.

Another full _work week_ , you remind yourself.

You let out a frustrated groan at the thought of returning to your desperate co-workers. Your day job was as an assistant to the assistant to the assistant to the one and only Mr. Maxwell Lord. You had been just a lowly coffee girl, your jobs were nothing more than to be shouted out when things went wrong and to run frantically around looking for whatever the other two assistants had missed. You didn’t like that part of your job - the yelling, the blaming and backstabbing, the pettiness - in fact, you hated just about everyone at work and thought of quitting often. But you stayed in your position. You stayed because you had this stupid crush on Maxwell Lord, a stupid crush that you knew was going to get you in a lot of trouble.

A stupid crush that had only formed because of Mr. Lord’s peculiar interest in your work at his company.

Within months you were often being called upon by him personally. He was very quick to favor you among the other bunch of girls that assisted him. All of them were young and attractive enough, you still have no idea why Mr. Lord had taken an interest in you. You weren’t like the others - you didn’t get your hair blown out every four weeks without fail (you still aren’t sure what that even means) and you wore mostly thrifted clothes compared to their designer heels and bags. Your nails weren’t always perfectly manicured, and you sometimes failed to even apply make-up because of your chronic lateness.

Mr. Lord had sought you out after a while and slowly you found yourself spending more and more time alone with him. He was intimidating - how could he not be? He was one of the wealthiest men in New York. He was known for being a ruthless businessman and downright cruel to anyone who tried to cross him. But with you, he was nothing but soft and caring - showing you a much different side to the great Maxwell Lord than all the stories you had heard.

In those quiet moments where it was just you and him, you found yourself talking to a different, gentler soul. Those moments became passing bites of affections - a hand on your lower back to guide you through the halls, a gentle shoulder rub to help him relax after a tough conference call, helping him adjust his tie before a meeting. And all those moments lead to stolen kisses when others weren’t looking, which lead to slaps on the ass and ‘accidentally’ leaving seductive notes on his desk.

Naturally, this all led to him taking you in his office whenever and however he fancied.

You knew when you were called into his office to bring him his daily ‘report’ - a task he had invented for you specifically so you could waste more time with him whenever he liked - you’d end up in any number of compromising positions, usually involving the removal of most of your clothes. Though Mr. Lord could be surprising sometimes in the ways he wanted to fuck you, now a year after this strange arrangement had started, you knew exactly what he liked and didn’t like. And you were very good at making sure to please him in all the right ways. Not only that but more than anything….you _fucking loved_ it.

Every day you found yourself itching for the phone call from his office that you were needed. You would wait patiently throughout most mornings, trying to do whatever useless task needed doing, and then leap out of your seat when he called. You tried to not act too eager. You didn’t need anyone to be suspicious of why Mr. Lord favored you so much more over all the other girls, but it was becoming much harder as the months wore on.

Most of the other girls were beside themselves when he would give them any extra attention. On several occasions, he had gifted one or two of them very expensive jewelry or designer clothing, and it had turned into a gossip session of how they could secure his attention for more intimate activities - which every girl dreamed would lead to unlimited access to his wallet. As far as you knew, you were the only one of the girls who had secured that level of attention from him, but you never asked, just in case you didn’t want to know the answer.

You had kept your affair completely secret, refusing to tell a single soul. You told Mr. Lord point-blank you didn’t need any gifts. You didn’t want any gifts. You were willing to spend this time with him because you wanted to spend time with him. You wanted this as much as him because you _enjoyed_ it as much as he did.

He ignored you of course, and he had gifted you with a shopping trip to an expensive lingerie place uptown. One of those fancy boutiques where you needed an appointment, a place you would never in a million years enter if it wasn’t for Max. Usually, you would have made a big deal about declining his extravagant gifts, but you decided to indulge him this once. You went all out - buying more underwear than you knew what to do with and surprising him for weeks on end with new combinations of lace and silk and God knows what else.

That had been the only time and only way you had allowed this very rich man to spoil you with his wealth.

Alas, you knew that you could never bring whatever it was the two of you shared into your ‘real-life’. You kept a strict rule with yourself - Mr. Lord’s requests stayed at his place of business and you never risked crossing the threshold of bringing him into your life outside of work. Letting him see the real you and how you really lived, well that just wasn’t an option. Mr. Lord had a certain way of doing things, he has certain standards that he lived by, and you knew your life and everything about it was far below those standards. And you never wanted him to find out in case he became disgusted with you and decided to move on to the next girl.

In truth, you had grown quite fond of Max. Yes, Max as you now call him in those quieter moments in his office. Although the two of you never spent time outside the office together and he had never taken you on a proper date or ever even expressed more than passing affection towards you, you still harbored a stupid crush on him. It was idiotic to think that Maxwell Lord, THE Maxwell Lord, would even spare you a second thought once your ass wasn’t in plain view. But you couldn’t help it. He was always so kind to you, and he treated you with respect. Not to mention that he knew how to fuck you better than anyone.

You’re so lost in your thoughts about work, and Max and what outfit you will surprise him with tomorrow, that when you reach for the doorknob to your apartment it takes several seconds to register that it is already unlocked.

You stare at the doorknob. You’d locked the door. You knew you had. You weren’t stupid. You always locked your door on the way out. Ever since the break-in a couple of years ago at your last place……

_Oh fuck._

Your heart stops. You place your ear on the door and listen for any noise on the other side. When you don’t hear anything, you take a deep breath and push the door open.

You gulp at the apartment in front of you.

Your tiny, tiny studio 300 square foot apartment is overturned. There are some very obvious things missing - your TV, your laptop, your piggy bank, which you thought was too childish for any robber to take seriously. You make your way through the mess as you pull out your phone to dial 911. Then you look at the spot below where your TV had been and hope you’ll see it, but no. It’s gone.

And that’s when you start to cry.

You wait patiently for the police on the edge of your bed. Tapping your feet nervously, jumping at every little sound. Two bored-looking officers arrive half an hour later. They don’t seem the least bit concerned about all of your stolen things. Uninterested as you relay your statement, lazily taking a few pictures of the mess before wishing you a pleasant evening and leaving.

You didn’t expect much more for the NYPD, but still. They didn’t even ask if you were safe. Or if you had somewhere safe to go. They didn’t even seem concerned about you. After they leave, you have to control your breathing. What were you going to do?

On the one hand, the thief had taken nearly everything of value so if someone did decide to come back they would be gravely disappointed. The most expensive things in your apartment now were your extensive lingerie and underwear collection. But you couldn’t just stay here, could you?

The deadlock on the door was busted. They had broken the last working lock in their break-in. The rest of the door was usually held closed by a clasp that you forced shut by sticking your biggest butcher knife through the clasp. It wasn’t the most effective security system, you would be the first to admit. But you hadn’t had any problems in this apartment. This was supposed to be a decently safe neighborhood, and you did like all your neighbors from what you could tell. You stare at the door hanging loosely on its hinges. You try and force it closed again and see if you can jam it close by propping something against it, but it starts to fall back. The door was literally falling off its hinges.

So no, you couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe. That had been established. Plus the chance of you getting any sleep with your bed six feet from the busted door was laughable.

But where would you go?

You mentally go over the short list of friends that you had made here in the City. Your best friend was over in Jersey, and you couldn’t make it that far this late when you had work in a few hours. There was your Aunt Gretchen, but no you didn’t need this getting back to your parents. That was one conversation you would go to great lengths to avoid. There was your ex, Robert. No, he’s engaged now, that would be weird, right? And for sure none of the other girls from work would help you. They fucking hated you.

Wow, you couldn’t think of a single person to call. This is…….really pathetic.

The thought had crossed your mind briefly at the start, but you had shrugged it off because it was utterly ridiculous. You _could not_ just call him. You had never once just called him outside the confines of a work call and your business relationship.

No, it wasn’t an option.

Then you glance back at your busted door and you start to tremble again. Without a second thought, you pull your phone out and hit his contact picture. You take a deep breath going over what to say and how to not sound completely pathetic as the phone starts to ring.

To your surprise, he answers on the first ring.

“Max?” Your voice breaks but you try to remain composed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry. I just um - “

“Are you alright?” His voice is low and urgent. He doesn’t sound upset with you. He sounds….concerned? You can’t help the tinge of relief that floods over you that he doesn’t immediately reject your call.

“Yes, well, I’m physically okay, yes.”

“Then to what do I owe the pleasure, sweet girl?”

“Well, you see I just got back from work - ”

“You weren’t at the office. I would have been made aware,” he interjects with a bit of amusement in his voice.

“No, my other job. The bar I work at on the weekends.”

“You never mentioned…..another job.”

“Well yeah, just on the weekends….Anyway, I just got home and someone….well someone broke into my apartment,” you are only greeted by silence on the other end. Fear grips your heart, and so you rush ahead in a bumbling mess of words. “And I know it is a lot to ask, but it’s too late to get my door fixed, and I was thinking if it might be possible - well, uh I know you have the spare apartment by the office. Just for tonight! I mean I know it’s a huge favor but just until I can figure out - ”

“Did you call the police?” His voice is stern on the other line and your heart drops. You knew this was a mistake and you start to think of ways to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible.

“Yes, of course! This was stupid. I shouldn’t have bothered you this late. I’m so sorry, Mr. Lord. Please forgive me.”

You can hear a shuffling on the other end and the unmistakable sound of him snapping his fingers and mouthing orders at whatever poor soul was within earshot.

“Don’t be ridiculous, honey. My men will be there shortly. Just try and stay calm. Can you do that for me?”

“Ummm,” you are confused at his words. His men, were what? But you had learned never to question him. “Yeah. Um…okay, I can do that.”

“Good. I’ll see you very shortly.”

With that, the line goes dead.

You just stare at the broken door with the phone still pressed firmly to your ear as you try and process the words. What was he talking about? He couldn’t be coming here. Max existed in another world, outside your own world and those two worlds couldn’t meet. And his men? He wasn’t going to waste his considerable resources on you. Buying your expensive lingerie was one thing…but sending his bodyguards to your apartment in the middle of the night was different. Much different.

Your mind is spinning, and you realize how tired you feel. You want nothing more than to lay down and just sleep. For a solid week. But you decide that you need to take stock of exactly everything that’s missing.

You bend down and start stacking the mess into neat piles. You pull out a notepad and scratch down a few things you know for sure are missing. TV. Switch. Laptop. Piggybank and contents. Your safe. Fuck, you didn’t even think of that. You kept all your important documents in it - birth certificate, social security, insurance - as well as a few risky pictures you had taken for Mr. Lord but been too shy about giving him. Fucking great. Now you had a whole other problem to worry about. You aren’t sure how long you are on the ground making your list pausing on occasion to try and contain your emotions, but it couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes before you hear a knock on the door.

“It’s open!” you call. “Not that I have a choice in the matter.”

You mutter to yourself as you push yourself off the ground. You look at the door expecting one of Max’s many bodyguards, instead you gasp as the door swings open and reveals a stoic-looking Maxwell Lord.

“Max,” you breathe out. He considers you for a moment as you rock back and forth on your heels. He’s here. He’s here in your life. There’s no going back now. Before you can stop yourself, you walk forward and look up at him. He takes your face in his hand and gently wipes away a tear. And with that simple gesture, you collapse into his touch and begin to sob.

To your surprise, he hugs you back. He embraces you and pulls you flush against his chest. You feel him press a kiss on the top of your head before pulling you closer. You are entirely engulfed by him. You bury your face into his chest and take a deep breath. His smell is so soothing to you. You try and lose yourself in it, if only for just a moment. You never liked to admit to yourself how safe Max felt. How nice it felt in these softer moments with him, how much you enjoyed the feeling of knowing he could take care of you if he wanted to.

You feel the rumble of his chest and it pulls you back to the moment. You look up at him. He brings his hands to either side of your face so you are gazing straight into his eye which looks at you with an urgent intensity.

“I’m here. I’m going to take care of everything. Tell me you’re alright.”

It’s the way he says it, he’s just so…sure. It’s like he wants to be here like he wants to take care of you….almost like he _really does_ care about you. Your heart clenches at just the thought. You just nod at him as you bite your lip trying to get control as your body starts to tremble again. You can’t tell if it’s from nerves or exhaustion at this point. He pulls you closer and runs his run finger along your jaw, tucking some of the wild mess of hair behind your ear.

“I want to hear you say it, sweetheart. I don’t like seeing my girl cry.”

You let out a half-squeak, half-giggle at his words as you try and hide your embarrassment from him. He doesn’t let you though, instead hooking his hand behind your neck and holding you steady so you are looking straight up at him.

“I - yes, I’m fine,” you finally manage, but you make sure to look anywhere else to avoid eye contact. Your eyes finally land on the empty place where your tiny TV had sat and the empty place below it. And you feel the breath hitch in your throat. Max follows your gaze and he gently pulls your attention back to him by placing his other hand on the side of your face forcing you to look back into his gentle expression. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you patiently waiting for an answer. “It’s embarrassing. You’re going to judge me.”

You look back, and he gives you another stern look, one that you recognize to mean he wasn’t going to ask again. You let out a frustrated huff.

“I… it’s just, well, l - they - they took my fucking Switch.”

Your voice cracks and you start to cry again as you bury your face back in his chest. You were so ashamed. You were crying to Maxwell fucking Lord about your stupid little Nintendo Switch. He didn’t care. Of course, he didn’t care about your stupid video games. He didn’t even know you played. But it meant so much to you. You had saved and scraped for _months_ until finally, you could play Zelda until your eyes were practically bleeding.

“Sweet girl,” Max whispers into your hair. “Is that why you’re crying?” You only answer by nodding your head into his chest. “I will buy you a hundred Switches. Hell, I will buy you a million if I don’t have to see your pretty face cry.”

A sudden burst of frustration bubbles to the surface and you forget. You forget that you’re talking to Maxwell Lord - a man so powerful, that rumor has it he pays to have any people whose ideas he doesn’t like ‘removed’. And by removed they are very rarely heard from again. And it is almost impossible to know if he likes or dislikes your idea, so it can just happen at the snap of a finger. You were terrified of being one of those people.

“But I don’t want you to buy me one. I want that one,” you pull back and look at him stubbornly. “I worked my ass off for that stupid little piece of plastic. Do you know how many extra shifts at the bar I took? I worked for months. It was more than just a Switch to me. It meant something so much more. But you wouldn’t understand that would you, Mr. Lord?”

Oh fuck. You shouldn’t have said that. You should NOT have said that. You can see it in the way his eyes flash with an unfamiliar emotion. It’s something you can’t place. You had crossed a line. And you start to pull away from him, regretting having opened your mouth, but he pulls you close. Max doesn’t take his eyes off you, there’s a knock on the door and one of his bodyguards enters the room holding something up.

“We got the surveillance footage, sir. We are sweeping all the alleys now.”

“Thanks, Liz. I’m helping our guest pack her bags. We will be down in just a moment.”

He is still staring at you as they back out of the room and you don’t dare break eye contact. You just stare at him with wide eyes, terrified of his next move. There is a long moment of silence before he leans down and places the softest of kisses on your lips. He smiles against your lips as he murmurs your name several times before he pulls you to his chest and kisses the top of your head affectionately.

“Are you going to take me on a tour of your place? Or am I going to have to find your closet myself?” He takes a step around you and puts his hands on his hips as he observes your apartment. You suddenly become very aware of your apartment. You suddenly become very aware that Maxwell Lord is standing in your very tiny, very dirty, _very humble_ apartment.

There is something just not right about him standing here in this space. He is wearing one of his expensive designer suits, pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle to be seen. His hair is still styled and looking perfect despite the late hour. You can see his Rolex peeking out from his long sleeves, cuffed with shining diamond cufflinks and the gold rings shining on both his hands. He is standing over your mattress, still on the floor because you had failed to buy a mattress stand when you moved in, and it never seemed very important after that. You see him look at your makeshift TV stand compiled of books and various boxes you had been able to assemble. He moves around the bed to the kitchen- which is just a small sink, fridge, and oven cramped together. You cringe at all the dirty dishes you had decided to do later before heading to work, obviously not expecting company. Max moves to the curtain that separates the bathroom from the rest of the space and you see his eyebrows move into a hard scowl.

You let out a small laugh, and he turns to look at you standing close behind him.

“Mr. Lord, I am so sorry I - ” He puts a finger to your lips to silence you.

“We aren’t at work. Why are you calling me that? It’s Max. You know this, sweetheart.”

You close your mouth and open it again to say something back but end up just staring at him confused for a long moment. The shock of his words is evident on your face. He smirks at you as he starts to shift through the mess clothes and grabs your backpack. Your favorite purple backpack, that you take with you just about everywhere, a small detail Max must have noticed about you, you realize as he starts to shuffle through your discarded clothes. He is methodical as he looks at each piece like he is considering it. He carefully chooses your favorite pair of leggings and favorite hoodie. Just how much had Max observed about you? Had he really noticed these little things so easily?

He looks up at you. You are still swaying on your heels watching him digging through the piles of clothing. He stands up and considers you. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I think you’ve had a long night. Let’s grab your things. And we will be on our way.”

This shakes you out of your stumper and you take the bag out of his hands as he starts to mindlessly shift through the drawers in the area you had designated as your closet. Which wasn’t so much a closet, as it was an elaborate stack of plastic bins and wicker baskets with a pole carefully balanced on the pipes on the ceiling to hang your ‘nice clothing’. You can see that he is somewhat amused as he pulls in each drawer and sees what’s inside. Admittedly, you had to massively expand your ‘closet’ to fit most of the lingerie he had provided.

“There is a distinct lack of clothing in your….wardrobe,” he hesitates on that last word as he looks at you with a puzzled expression. “I usually wouldn’t complain. But I do think you will need to be dressed at some point.”

You’re still confused. Why was he packing a bag? And why was he picking out some of his favorite sets from your lingerie? You just watch him, holding the backpack out for him to throw whatever he liked from your collection. He is always careful with whatever he picks. And this is no exception you can see him looking at just how much stuff you had bought for him and just how much you hadn’t shown him yet.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he whispers as he pulls out a lavender lace bodysuit you had been planning on showing him, preferably when you know he was having a tough week. “I am going to have them come back in the morning for all of this.”

Max stands up suddenly. He grabs the backpack from your hands and zips it up quickly before throwing it over his shoulder.

“Is there anything else you will need tonight? Think hard. I’ll have my people go get you new clothes first thing tomorrow. I already sent Maria to get things you will need for the next few days - toothbrush, toothpaste…all that. What else do you need that is here and only here?”

“Wait, where are you taking me?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper as you glance around the apartment thinking about all your stuff. You were just going to leave it all here…unprotected?

“Home. With me. Where else?”

“Mr. Lord, I couldn’t possibly -” As soon as the words leave your mouth, he turns to look at you with such intensity the rest of the sentence stops in your throat. Your mouth snaps shut, and you just nod at him as he reaches out his hand and you take it without another word.

“What about my stuff? I don’t want someone to take the rest of it…..it’s all I have,” you look around and there is a pain in your chest at just how little you have and how pathetic it must look to someone like Max who has so much.

“Liz will stay here. Make sure no one else comes. Until I can get a truck here in the morning.”

He squeezes your hand reassuringly. It feels warm as it envelopes your hand. He feels safe. And you’re starting to believe him, he really was going to take care of everything. Max starts to lead you out into the hall, and you see the bodyguard from earlier walk into your apartment. You look around, there are three people in dark clothing waiting in the hallway, they all acknowledge your exit and start to clear a path down the stairs to the lobby. Max turns around and glances one last time at your humble abode.

“You’re sure there is nothing else of importance here that you need to grab?”

“Well, there was my safe,” you put your other hand in his to steady yourself remembering the contents. “Fuck, the safe. They took the safe. It had all my important stuff in it.”

“We’ll get it back, don’t worry.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead, and you close your eyes at the gesture. It feels almost tender, warm - affectionate even. He starts again down the stairs nodding at the guard standing next to your broken door. It dawns on you this was Max’s whole security team, he had brought his entire security detail to pick you up at your apartment. That was the captain of his team here in the middle of the night leading you out of your building. Nothing about this was normal.

But then you remember the contents safe and you tug on his arm again stopping him on the stair below you.

“No, Max,” you pull on his arm a little to get his attention, to really get his attention.

He stops, waiting for you. You glance around and see two more people on the stairway down to the lobby.

“There were……..pictures,” Max just cocks his eyebrows at you and waits for you to elaborate. When he doesn’t seem to understand the implication of your words you lean down and pull yourself close to his ear. “The pictures were for you, Max.”

The realization washes over his face and his eyes darken as a smile spreads across his features. He reaches around your waist and pulls you against him.

“You shy, sweet little thing,” he reaches up and pulls you into a kiss. For the first time outside the confines of his office, he kisses you. When you say he kisses you, you mean he _kisses you._ He is not shy about all the other eyes surrounding him. Where usually his touches were shy and hidden - this is purposeful. He wants it. He fucking claims you. Right there in front of his security detail, in front of the few neighbors who had decided to poke their heads out, he makes it known that _you’re his_. His tongue explores your mouth and you are so dizzy that you have to lean into his touch. He catches you as he pulls away and nips on your bottom lip. “No one else gets to see my girl.”

You smile at him. There isn’t a word to describe the way you feel at this moment- excited. Overwhelmed. Tired. Blessed. Thankful. Elated. Worried. Sad. But also happy. Mixed with a new desire for the man standing in front of you.

But more than anything you felt terrified. Were you really Maxwell Lord’s girl?

____♡____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr - perropascal


	2. the other woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell makes his intentions completely clear.

⇄♡⇆

You had been to Max’s apartment only twice before. 

To call it an apartment was laughable. YOU lived in an apartment - Max lived in _a fucking castle_. 

Maxwell’s penthouse took up the top four floors of a luxury high rise on the West Side of Manhattan. It was lavishly decorated with the most expensive paintings, fancy furniture, and all the latest technology. Just one of his guest bathrooms was twice the size of your entire apartment. And although you had never been to the upper levels, you always assumed they were just as regal. Maxwell Lord didn’t have anything to do with mediocre, whatever he touched was going to be extravagant and over-the-top in every possible way.

You’d been to his penthouse for the annual holiday party for the past two years. It was always a ritzy affair. Your first year, you had only barely started working for Mr. Lord’s company and had been pressured by others to attend. You ended up attending alone and spending most of the evening standing in the corner nursing several glasses of champagne. Later in the evening, when you were feeling much more confident in yourself, thanks to a healthy amount of alcohol in your system, you had dared to strike up a conversation with Mr. Lord. It was the first time Max had ever taken any interest in you. You still don't fully remember what you said to keep his attention for the rest of the evening. You don’t recall saying anything particularly important. But evidently whatever it was had greatly impressed Mr. Lord because first thing the following Monday he asked for you personally. 

This past year you had known full well what to expect. You knew the office politics. You knew Mr. Lord much more intimately thanks to your arrangement. But unfortunately, this also meant you now knew _the_ Mrs. Lord as well. 

Well, you didn’t actually _know_ Mrs. Lord. According to Max, she had stopped speaking to him the day she told him she was leaving him and hadn’t spoken a single word to him since. That had been 17 years ago. The two, however, were still _legally_ married.

Mrs. Evelyn Lord was apparently a significant socialite and had many, _many_ powerful friends. The marriage had been arranged by their parents in order to help secure both their children's status in society - so the two were married at the age of 19. You couldn’t fathom what that meant, but you also had never lived among people where you needed to care about your status among your peers. It was during one of your many conversations about Max’s marriage that you introduced him to the term ‘first world problems’. He had found it quite amusing, and he liked to use it whenever he referred to problems regarding Evelyn now. 

They also never arranged a prenup, and since they had gotten married so young, Max had gained quite a consequential fortune by starting his company. According to him, divorce wasn’t an option unless Evelyn suddenly deemed it necessary, which also, according to him, was very unlikely. The ex-Mrs. Lord loved expensive things, hated Maxwell but loved spending his money, and was thrilled to torture him at any and every opportunity. 

Max never explained the reason she hated him so adamantly, but you were able to piece enough together to know he made a mistake. When he spoke about it he seemed remorseful, sad almost. But there were very few things that set Max off more than bringing up Evelyn’s name. You weren’t sure at this point who hated who more. So you found it better to avoid the topic altogether - until Max got another bill of some extravagant purchase or a rumor of her and her new beau being spotted on vacation in some lavish spot in the Caribbean. Or currently, the dreaded approach of Maxwell’s most hated event of the year - the annual Christmas Party.

At the annual Christmas party every year they were forced to make an appearance together. Max had explained it to you as something to reassure the shareholders. Mrs. Lord owned a large portion of the company and so it was important to keep up the appearance of a semi-normal relationship. Though it was fairly common knowledge that the two were no longer together, they needed to at least appear as if they were on speaking terms so that the shareholders could sleep easy knowing that the company's investments were safe. They never actually spoke to one another. They spoke through their assistants or other guests. It always became a complicated game of how to communicate their hatred for one another through others without directly saying it. 

Max promised to spare you from being the assistant that would have to follow him around to relay whatever message he felt needed to be conveyed to his wife. There was some part of you that wanted to be the girl that followed him around. Looking his wife in the eyes knowing just that very afternoon her husband had you bent over his desk as he pounded into you from behind while you bit down hard on his belt to keep yourself from screaming. But you also knew yourself. You would freeze the moment you saw her even looking in your direction.

So last year, at your second Christmas party, with your new arrangement a complete secret from the world, you had decided to bring a plus one against your better judgment. You decided at the last minute to invite Robert as your guest, really your distraction, so that you could drink away the night and gossip with him about your god awful co-workers. Robert was your ex-boyfriend….for the most part. The two of you hadn’t quite figured out how to stay broken up. There were nights where you were lonely. Very lonely. And since the man you were thinking about and wanting the most required a certain amount of discretion, Robert was your next best option. You had not mentioned to anyone about your relationship with Max, as far as you knew, the two of you were the only ones aware of your arrangement. You knew that your access to Max would be limited at the party and the thought killed you. You loved the idea of being the woman who got to be by his side for the evening, laughing along with his jokes, gently patting his back as he tells an entertaining story. But you knew that would never happen and you’d rather have flashes of a relationship with Maxwell Lord than nothing at all. So you agreed to go and to behave yourself.

Upon arriving at the party, already slightly buzzed, and instantly being sought out by Max

you realized bringing Robert was a wild miscalculation on your part. Max doesn’t share things, so while you may be able to get away with seeing Robert outside work on those occasions when you were extra lonely, flaunting him in front of Mr. Lord was a mistake. The way he eyed you as you introduced Robert as your ‘good friend’, the way his eyes followed you as Robert put his hand on your lower back and led you through the crowd, the way you caught him glaring at the two of you throughout the evening could only mean one thing - you were in trouble. Big trouble. 

So you ended up drinking that night. You ended up drinking _a lot_ that night. Towards the end of the party, Max casually made his way over to you and Robert. Your vision was blurred and your mind foggy, running a few seconds behind as Max approached the two of you. You were slumped over on Robert’s shoulder, and he had his hand wrapped tightly around your waist hoovering dangerously close to your ass. You hum when you saw Max approaching greeting him with a simple, ‘helloMisterLord’ in one slurred mess. It became obvious with your greeting that you were extremely intoxicated. He quickly insisted on calling a car for the two of you. 

“Please, it is no problem, Mr. Riley. We need to get her home safely. She has a long day of work tomorrow.” 

You giggle slightly into Robert’s shoulder. He knew his name. You know he knows. He remembers crazy small details about everyone he meets, it’s part of the reason he had become so successful. But he wants to play a power game, and so he would purposefully call him the wrong name every single time. Your eyes are closed and you snicker at how you knew this about him, at just how well you could read him. 

“Charming,” a cold, calculated voice enters the conversation and your eyes fly open. You glance up and see Evelyn Lord staring down at you from behind her huge, dark sunglasses. You know you look ridiculous as you stare at her with wide eyes and your mouth slightly open. But your mind cannot process the events unfolding in front of you. “Do you know if it speaks, Annie?”

Mrs. Lord turns and looks at her assistant, and you register Max’s hands coming to grab you by the shoulders and guiding you towards the exit. You don’t stop staring at Mrs. Lord as she continues to glare at you as your body follows the motions but your mind is still trying to make sense of her comment. 

“I see you first thing in the morning. Glad you could enjoy yourself tonight, kid. A pleasure to meet you tonight, Robin.”

“Remind me, Annie,” Mrs. Lord turns and glares at her husband. “Isn’t tomorrow Christmas Eve?”

“It is indeed, Miss.” Annie the assistant squeaks behind her glasses and notepad. 

There is a heavy silence in the air as everyone lets the information sink in. You can see Robert’s confused look between Maxwell and Evelyn before looking down at your petrified form. You can see Max’s hands subtly clenching and unclenching as he bites his bottom lip. And you can see Mrs. Lord looking at you, a smug look drawn on her surgically perfected features. She is letting you know she just figured out everything she ever needs to know about you, and you feel anger flash through you, white and hot before it boils over.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” you blurt out. Now you’ve really confused Robert as he looks at Max with bewilderment. Max looks slightly surprised but doesn’t say anything, so you decide to use the confidence of the alcohol to propel you forward. “I...yeah, I don’t celebrate Christmas. I don’t believe in…well, I don’t believe in a lot of things, but the selfish need to consume this capitalist propaganda that we can only appreciate during the winter snowy season by wasting copious amounts of money we do not possess is both self-indulgent and honestly….the basis of….why America isn’t the most prominent country in the global economy anymore.”

Okay. None of that made sense. Hopefully, the words you had strung together made just enough sense to pass as coherent and plausible. You aren’t sure exactly what point you were trying to make, but you hope that large words would somehow aid you in confusing them into thinking you're brilliant. 

“So I have elected to abstain from such….frivolous actions and...superficial activities. Alternatively…I volunteered my time this week for Mr. Lord. I agreed to work Christmas Eve and Christmas. Because...I desire to.”

The look on each individual’s face tells a different story. Robert is staring at you like he is seeing you for the first time like he is really truly seeing you and for some reason it stings. Mrs. Lord’s expression had turned sour, as she peers at you over the top of her dark sunglasses. You can tell from her expression that she doesn’t believe a word you just said, and she knows. This means she now knows you just _willingly_ lied to her face for her (sort of ex) husband. And that means she must really not like you. 

But when your eyes land on Max, your heart flutters. There is nothing but admiration on his face. Nothing but respect. You straighten your back a little and smile at the group. 

“I shall see you tomorrow, Mr. Lord. Great party!” You didn’t say another word as you fled the party and Max’s watchful gaze. 

Not a word was spoken by Robert as he helped you up to your apartment. You hadn’t even tried to explain yourself. You knew he figured it out, and for some reason, you knew he was never going to forgive you. Even in your drunken state, you knew this would be the last time you’d see him like this, as whatever casual boyfriend he had been for the past little while. But you didn’t mind. Because tomorrow you got to see Maxwell and that was all you needed.

So you passed out drunk as a skunk but so supremely happy that night. 

When you showed up the next day to the office, late and hungover, looking like a trainwreck Max had actually laughed. He couldn’t believe you came at all. You couldn’t believe he doubted your commitment. He faked some emergency that needed to be taken care of as an excuse to keep you in his office all day, to himself. There was hardly anyone else in the office because it was Christmas Eve. He had declared it a company holiday in order to raise company spirits last year, to look like the ‘cool CEO’. You didn’t want to tell everyone in the office that it had been at your suggestion he does this, so they should be thanking you, instead of praising him. But his victory is your victory, you always had to convince yourself.

Max had insisted that lay you down on the sofa in his office and take a nap. He told you there wasn’t any actual work for you to do, and so it was your job to keep him company. But you wouldn’t nap until your head was secure in his lap. The gesture had surprised Max. He seemed shocked that you wanted to be so close to him, that you just wanted to feel his touch.

Thinking back now, you know that was the moment you began to feel a lot more for Max - when you laid your head in his lap and asked him to read you to sleep. He read some mind-numbingly, boring reports about numbers, or figures, or stocks but you didn’t really care. You just wanted to know he was near. 

You spent the afternoon, and well into the evening on that sofa, and that day was the first time all your clothes remained on your body. The two of you spent the entire day talking. Just talking and laughing. You had learned more about Max that afternoon than you ever dreamed possible. And you felt more affection for him after that day than you knew what to do with. 

That had been nearly a year ago now. 

Currently, Max is gently holding your hand in the back of his car as the two of you drive across town. You’re staring apprehensively out the window, nervously chewing on your bottom lip. You want to thank Max. It was nearly two in the morning now, and his workdays started early. You want to let him know how much this means to you, but everything that you think to say in your head sounds stupid. _Thanks for saving me tonight. I promise to repay you!_ No, there is very little you could offer Max beside your company.

You want to ask him exactly what he’s thinking, you had been under the impression that your relationship was strictly an office affair - to be kept secret. After all, he was _married_ and the CEO of a major company. You are sure he doesn’t want that kind of publicity, though there had been rumors splashed on the cover of tabloids before, Max had avoided such scandals for years now. So you had been careful, not telling another soul and avoiding any real meaningful relationships for the past year because all your feelings belonged to him. And only him. Your heart belonged to Maxwell Lord, but you were too prideful or too scared of what that meant. 

“I know you want to say something, darling. Just get it out of the way.”

You jump a little at the sound of his voice as it pulls you away from your thoughts. You yank your hand away and ball it in a fist in reaction but then just look at him for a moment. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. - Mm-Max. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just….so sorry.”

You feel his hand reach around your back and pull you a little closer to him. You give in to his touch and scoot closer throwing your legs over his lap. He invites you in and pulls you close. You bury your head in his chest and your fingers start to trace the seam on his dress shirt. He waits for a moment as he watches your finger trace up and down his chest and stomach before gently taking your hand and interlacing your fingers together. 

“Why do you keep apologizing to me?” Max whispers as he continues to play with your conjoined fingers. You take a minute to think of your answer, and Max gives you time, not pushing you or forcing an answer out of you.

Should you be truthful with him? Should you tell him everything you were feeling? No, that would be foolish. You shouldn’t look at his charity as anything less than a miracle. But your stomach was doing flips. You were terrified. Terrified of people finding out you had been having an affair with Maxwell Lord for over a year. Terrified of the judgment that would come from your co-workers finding out just why Max favored you so much. The shame of being with someone older, and your boss at that - fulfilling literally every stereotype you could think of when it came to office affairs. You were terrified of the implication of what it meant to be Mr. Lord’s girl. 

Finally, you pull away from him and take his face in your hands. 

“Max, I know you care about me,” he smirks at this and nods his head as he kisses your palm. He looks at you as if this is the most obvious statement in the world. “But what exactly did you mean when you called me your girl?” 

The happy smile on his face drops and he looks at you for a long moment, as he considers you with a very serious expression. He tugs on your waist and you’re pulled onto his lap. You shift your legs so you are straddling him comfortably. He puts both his arms around your lower back and pulls you as close as he can to his chest. 

“You can’t seriously be asking me that question.”

You don’t make eye contact as you continue to run your hand down along the collar of his shirt. You just bite your lip and nod trying not to hide your embarrassment. You feel his hand under your chin as he gently guides your gaze up and into his eyes. When you meet his eyes you can see his soft brown eyes filled with concern and a hint of deep, undeniable sadness. 

“Have I not made myself entirely clear?” He whispers gently.

“No, Max, I know you care about me. I just...I was under the impression that this,” you pause for a minute and look at him. You give him a tiny half-smile and kiss the tip of his nose. “I thought this was just….we were just….a sex thing….” 

Your voice trails off as his expression continues to turn more sour.

“You thought I was just fucking you?” He asks with a hint of bitterness.

“Well, I don’t know,” you trip over your words and fiddle with the top button of his shirt. You always avoided talking about your feelings with Max. It felt like a line you shouldn’t cross. Did you want to talk to him about some of the things bothering you? Sure. But you never wanted to cloud his judgment, you never wanted him to treat you differently because you felt a certain way or because you expressed concern about something. You wanted to always be available for him, not another problem he needed help to solve. 

But you were only human. And in some of those quieter moments, when it was late, you would tell Max about some of your worst fears, some of your biggest dreams, and you even confessed to him your deepest most embarrassing secret after he promised to tell you his. The trade of info had been worth it, but every time your walls came down around him, you’d kick yourself for allowing yourself to catch more feelings, to think he might care about you too. 

Now sitting here in his car you are starting to think that every assumption you had made about Maxwell Lord and your relationship was wrong. You feel Max take your hands in his, forcing you to stop fiddling with his button. He presses a soft kiss on the palm of each hand before taking your head in both of his hands. 

“You have to know that you are a very important person in my life. Not very many people get a house call from Maxwell Lord at 1 in the morning.” 

“I know that,” you say a little too defensively and Max notices. God, he really does notice everything. You feel his hand guiding your chin back so your eyes are looking back into his. “I guess, I didn’t know...that you...wanted people to know. About me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want people to know about you?”

“Oh, well, I am your assistant….and you are my boss, technically…”

“Yes, last time I checked,” he chuckles as he leans forward and kisses you lightly on the lips. “Employee of the month, every month, if I had a say in it.”

“Well, it’s just that, isn’t it? Bit of a cliche. Me and you. Together. Don’t you think?” 

You start to nervously bite your lip as you look at him. He is looking at you with a thoughtful expression. He opens his mouth about to say something, then shuts it. He tilts his head considering you before slowly bringing his lips to yours and kissing you softly. 

“Is that why you never let me do anything for you? Because you’re embarrassed? About us?”

His words hit you, and your eyes widen in surprise and you just look at him in shock. His reaction makes it apparent he wasn’t expecting such an honest reaction from you and he starts to chuckle.

“Max, I - no, I could never, ever, ever be embarrassed by you. By us. You’re the most exciting thing in my life. No, I thought - I just - wow, I feel silly, oh my god I feel silly, but I thought you didn’t like me as more than a little piece of ass,” you say it in one breathe. It was probably the most honest you had ever been with Max. He is grinning down at you and you feel like there is some joke you don’t understand. 

“You thought I didn’t like you as anything more than a quick, dirty fuck is what you’re saying?” 

“Oh my god, Max, no. I really didn’t think you’d ever be interested in a girl like me. In like more than….just sex,” you stammer out.

“And why’s that?” 

“Cause, well, I’m me?” You phrase it as more of a question and look at him. He seems concerned by this and he takes both your hands and places them gently on either side of his face.

“Darling, you have to know how extraordinary you are to me. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“No, I’m not,” you say it so quickly and with such confidence that Max does a strange double take before letting out an earnest laugh. He keeps laughing as he pulls you close to his chest tucking your head into the nape of his neck. You can feel the rumble in his chest as he continues to laugh and it soothes your nerves. You aren’t sure why he’s laughing but you giggle and bury your face into his neck. You let out a half-hearted ‘ _shut up’_ and this causes Max to laugh harder. After a minute, Max catches his breath and you feel him rubbing circles on your back. 

“I don’t lie. So I’m not lying when I say you are the most vivacious, incredible woman I’ve ever met. You mean a lot to me, darling. I hope that’s alright. I would like to continue this relationship if you’re willing.” 

You violently jerk your head away from him in surprise.

“What?! I thought _you_ didn’t like _me_? I l _ove_ you, Max. Of course, I fucking want this. I’ve _wanted_ this for a long time. But I was scared of you and I guess I shouldn’t have been. I guess we both should’ve been a little more honest, yeah?” 

There is a heavy silence in the air as you realize what you just said. Instead of acknowledging it, you decide to do what you always do - try and make him forget by using the power of seduction. You bring your lips to his and run your tongue along his bottom lip before biting down lightly. You run your hands up along his chest and start to undo the top buttons before his hands come up to grab yours. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he whispers in your ear. “And it’s not going to work. Not this time at least.” 

“And what am I trying to do Mr. Lord?” You drag your hand away from his, down his chest, and run it delicately along his thighs. You can feel him shift slightly into your touch so you know it’s working. You smile slyly as you lean into him and kiss up to his neck and jaw. He relents into your kiss when you reach his lips. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to his body.

“You're trying to make me lose focus of the fact that you just used the word love,” he whispers as he tips your chin up and brings your lips to his. 

“And are you going to stop me, Mr. Lord?” You press your lips firmly to his and wrap your arms around his neck. He doesn’t stop you as you dip your tongue into his mouth. His hands move down your back and firmly grip your ass. You try to move your hand back around and down to his belt but he presses your body so close to his so that you’re trapped - there is no room for you to maneuver no matter how much you try and wiggle free. 

There’s a jerk from the car and you are tugged forward and away from the kiss. 

“We’re here,” he whispers. You turn your head and realize that the car had pulled into a garage. 

Max leads you through his house. You’re walking through Max’s house. Maxwell Lord is showing you _his house_ but you’re too tired to truly comprehend how insane this would’ve sounded just a mere two hours ago. You can’t appreciate how magnificent his house is decorated, or the people he points out who will be helping you because you are solely focused on him. And him alone. Max was leading you through his house because he cared about you. Maxwell Lord cared about you. You’re still processing this thought when Max swings the huge double doors open to reveal the master bedroom.

The master bedroom is so extravagant, but your eyes instantly fall onto the enormous bed.

You run your hand over the bed, feeling the silk linens and you realize how tired your body feels. Max is still watching you carefully. You feel his eyes follow you as you wander into the bathroom. You flick on the light and sigh as you lean on the doorframe looking in - you were too tired to appreciate how grand the master bath looks. On any other occasion, you’d be kicking yourself at the idea of being in Maxwell Lord’s bedroom. But right now all you can feel is your eyes slowly drooping, and the impossible drag of your limbs as you try and make your way into the bathroom. 

You feel two hands wrap themselves around your waist. 

“Let me help you, yeah?” He whispers it in your ear as he nips on your lobe. 

“Mmm, it’s my job to help you, Mr. Lord,” you slur out as you turn in his arms to face him. You feel your body start to sag a little and Max catches you before you can sink any further to the ground. You feel him lightly press his weight against you and back you up a few steps and you’re too tired to fight him. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck and gently run your fingers through the back of his hair. You feel your backside hit the bathroom counter and without any time to register his intentions, he reaches down below your ass and lifts you onto the hard surface. 

You let out a little gasp. He rests his forehead against yours for a moment as he reaches over for something on the counter. He looks into your eyes as he fiddles with something next to you. You are so focused on his eyes that you aren’t paying attention to anything else. All you can see is him. 

“You’re really pretty,” you whisper. Max stops and raises his eyebrows at you in surprise. 

“Pretty?” He says it in mock disgust. He always tries to lose his accent when he is upset, and you can’t help but giggle at how well you know him. You lean forward and bury your head into his shoulder. You keep your eyes closed and you just lean into this feeling. You can feel him doing something behind your back but you don’t care. You are so comfortable and this feels so perfect.

“Yeah, and I think you know it too,” you mutter into his shoulder. 

“Did you remember that first time you came into my office?” You hum as he pulls you away from his shoulder so you are sitting up straight in front of him. You don’t open your eyes as you lazily sag a little and you hear Max snicker a little. 

He’d never seen you quite this tired before, thoroughly out of it, and somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s a small part of you screaming about how embarrassed you will be in the morning. But you’re too tired to care about that little voice in the back of your head, so you reach your hands out and feel Max’s chest in front of you with a satisfied grin. 

“You’re strong,” you whisper as you feel up and down his arms, squeeze his bicep lightly. Your eyes stay closed as you lean forward onto his chest. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, you feel his hands on the skin of your back as he lifts your t-shirt over your head in one swift, expert motion. You open your eyes and suddenly remember that you’re not wearing your usual glamorous lingerie. You reserved that for days when you’d be at the office. Tonight though, you’d been at the bar working. And there was no reason to put in more than the bare minimum of effort to appear attractive enough for some nice tips. You instinctively cross your arms over your chest trying to cover up the old dirty bra - willing yourself to feel less self-conscious. 

Max doesn’t say anything as he takes your crossed arms in his hand and gently places them back on his shoulders. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of each breast as he smiles up at you. Then he slowly, methodically moves his hands down and dips his fingers under the waistband of your leggings. 

These take more of an effort to wiggle out of and Max ends up on the floor in front of you, dragging down each pant leg and around your ankle. You giggle at the sight of him on the floor beneath you. Maxwell Lord is on his knees for you and the thought is driving your drunk-sleep brain wild. 

“I like this view, I think I could get used to this,” you prop your freed ankle on his shoulder. He looks up at you as he tips his head to the side and kisses the top of your foot as he shimmies your other pant leg down and off. You place your foot on his other shoulder and tilt your head down, biting your lip, smiling. “You know, I think I like the look of you between my legs.”

Max smiles up at you, he leisurely moves forwards and begins kissing the inside of your legs. He goes from one leg to the other leg, back and forth until he is kneeling in front of you placing a kiss at the top of each thigh. You whine at how unhurried he seems to be; he chuckles before he places one last kiss at the apex of your thighs and stands.

“As much you know I would love to give you everything you need, you’re past your bedtime.” You let out a pathetic whine and Max merely chuckles. He leans forward and kisses you deeply. “There will be plenty of time for such activities later, darling. Rest assured.”

Max breaks away from you, he keeps one arm wrapped firmly around your waist from support as you listen to him shuffling through the bathroom drawers. He mutters something to himself in Spanish. You close your eyes at the sound and feel the tiredness wash over you again. You lean heavily on Max’s arm sinking further down as the tiredness overwhelms your senses. 

“I’ve never used one of these before,” Max mutters as you feel him return in front of you and you feel a cold wet cloth brush across your face. You grimace at the sensation of the coldness. What on earth...what is he doing? You sit for a minute questioning his actions but not saying anything until you feel him wipe at your eyes, in particular your eyelashes. Then it suddenly dawns on you.

“Are you removing my make-up?” You keep your eyes close as you tilt your head up at him in question.

“Yes, is that okay? You told me once you break-out if you sleep with it on. And I know how you feel about your skin.”

You freeze. How could he possibly know that? How could he possibly remember that? You don’t remember ever telling him that. But it’s true. You always take any single drop of make-up off, no matter what - no matter how tired, drunk, high, or otherwise - the make-up came off before bed. You had struggled with acne for years, it was one of your biggest insecurities, and so you were steadfast in this rule with yourself. Now that you had finally perfected the art of maintaining clear skin, you never ever risked a breakout. 

Maxwell Lord knew you. 

And you were speechless. 

He knew one of your biggest insecurities. He remembered, planned for it even, with make-up wipes. Did he expect you to be here? Maxwell Lord cared enough about you to remember a random tidbit you must’ve forgotten you’d shared with him, and to plan ahead to make sure and _take care of you_. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to think. Your chest fills with an unidentifiable feeling - it is so warm you feel like you might actually melt into the bathroom counter. 

Max snaps his fingers in front of your face and your eyes reluctantly open. He is holding a toothbrush looking at you with concern.

“Hey, stay with me for a few more minutes. Open up.”

You open your mouth without thinking and Max takes your chin in one hand as his other begins to vigorously brush your teeth.

“Do you remember that first time?” He asks again. You shrug at him and he sighs as he continues to brush your teeth. “That first time I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on.”

You want to make some snarky remark but the toothbrush being propelled by Max in your mouth prevents you from saying something. Max notices the small garbled noise you make and gives you a look. He takes the toothbrush out and you lean over and spit into the sink. He hands you a cup of water. 

“And I have seen a lot of beautiful things in my life, darling.” 

You lean over and spit out the water before turning back to Max with a frown. 

“That was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me. Max, please, you’re going to make me throw up, you stupid cheeseball.”

“And what if it’s true?” He leans forward and places a kiss on your neck. “Are you going to call me a stupid cheeseball then?”

“Yes, definitely.”

He sucks softly at the sweet spot on your neck, and you moan as you wrap your arms around his neck. His arms snake themselves around your back and pull you to the edge of the counter and on instinct, you wrap your legs around him. 

“That so, darling?” He kisses down your neck to your collar where he sucks until you hear a light pop as his lips part with his skin. He hums as he kisses down to the top of your breasts. “Now, we have a problem.”

You open your eyes and glance at him with a questioning look. 

“You can’t possibly sleep comfortably in this.” The hand on your back sneaks a finger under the strap of your bra and tugs on it ever so slightly and it snaps back onto your skin. 

“Well, did you pack me any PJs then, Mr. Lord?” You giggle as you slip off the bathroom counter in search of your backpack. You feel Max’s hand snake around your waist and his lips meet your bare shoulder. 

“My closet,” he whispers against your shoulder. “Take whatever you want.” 

You turn around in his arms. 

“Whatever I want?” You question. He just nods his head, you wrinkle your nose at the prospect. You walk into his closet and start to laugh at the sheer amount of clothes. You run your hands over some of the suits hanging. They are all hanging in color-coded order, from the blacks to the greys and blues, the tans, and to your surprise, a few green ones and even one particularly ugly, yellow one. You stop when you reach the sleeve of the yellow one and just stop and turn with a raised eyebrow to Max. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he shrugs, as he leans on the doorway watching you in amusement. His tone sounds serious but you can see the smile that’s playing on his lips.

You consider asking what’s the most expensive shirt he owns so you can sleep in that one. But then you spot it - a small pile of clothes shoved into the corner, clearly forgotten or clearly something Max didn’t intend for anyone to see. Max follows your eyes and jumps up from the doorway to stand in front of them.

“Those are old, nothing important.”

“Hmm,” you ignore him completely and push past him and grab the first thing your fingers touch. It's a t-shirt. A simple, unassuming t-shirt. Something you would have never, in a million years, picture Maxwell Lord wearing. Yet as you hold it up, you want to. You reach down and grab another one. You lift it up and see words still faintly printed on the soft worn fabric. You turn and grin widely at Max.

“I didn’t know you liked football!” You exclaim excitedly. The words are printed in Spanish and you recognize it as a jersey from one of the World Cups, years ago, and you’re pretty sure you can just faintly make out the Chilean flag. 

“Well,” he reaches down and takes the shirt out of your hands. “In another time, in another life, I loved it.”

“Well, in this life and in this time, I love it!” You reach around your back and unclasp your bra in one swift motion. It falls into your hands and you toss it towards Max playfully. He catches it, but his eyes are focused on your naked chest. You step forward and stand directly in front of him taking the shirt out of his hand. You hold it up, making a show of it as you shrug it on. 

“How’d I look?”

Max’s eyes twinkle as you do a tiny spin before wrapping your arms around his chest and sagging your weight into him from sheer exhaustion. 

“Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he squeezes your butt, and you let out a surprised yelp. “Now it’s time to get you to bed.”

You don’t really think much after that. Your brain has shut off. You just let Max take care of you because you know he will, you know Maxwell Lord will take care of everything for you. You know he is going to make sure you are okay. You can’t believe you ever doubted that. Well, it still feels too impossible to be real. That you, little old insignificant you, _could be_ so significant to someone so important. You feel yourself settle into Max’s arms as he pulls you close. And it dawns on you that this is the first time the two of you had ever _slept_ together. You had been having sex with Max for a long time now, but you had never actually slept with him. You pull his arm closer around your chest and place a gentle kiss on his knuckles, and a pressure releases in your chest. It felt right. And you felt unashamedly happy.

⇄♡⇆

You hear the buzzing sound before you remember all the previous night's events. So you reach absentmindedly where your phone would usually be perched. When your hand is met with more bed and not the familiar feeling of your nightstand you blink your eyes open and the memories of last night come flooding over you. 

You sit up quickly and glance around. The spot in this enormous bed next to you is empty and you put on a small pout. You look around the room and there’s no sign of Max. You stretch your arms and yawn. You're still dead tired and your phone is still buzzing loudly with your morning alarm, reminding you it’s time to get ready for work.

You can’t remember where it ended up last night because it hadn’t really been your priority. You push yourself off the bed and follow the blaring noise of your alarm. You follow the noise to your purple backpack and see your glowing phone in the side pocket. You take it out and flip the alarm off. You have 35 missed messages, 10 missed calls, and your phone has stopped counting your unanswered emails at 99. You sigh. It was going to be a long week. 

At that moment the bathroom door slides open to reveal a freshly dressed Maxwell Lord. He is buttoning his cuff links as he takes in your sleepy form. You just smile at him sleepily and throw your arms around his neck, happy to see him as you pull yourself into his chest and kiss him lightly on the lips, before burying your head and taking a deep breath - he smells divine, like fresh laundry and cologne, with a hint of peppermint.

“Good morning,” you hum into his chest. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs. “What do you think you’re doing awake so early?”

“I have to get to work, Mr. Lord,” you giggle as you reach up on your tiptoes and kiss his nose. “My boss likes it when I get there before him. He’s picky like that.”

“Your boss wants you to stay home for the day and rest.”

“Yeah, right. I know you're joking. You haven’t met this guy,” you roll your eyes at him as you push past him into the bathroom. You are already going through the most important tasks for the day, running through what you need to prioritize when a hand lands on your shoulder and spins you around. 

“Darling, I’m not joking,” you look at his hand and follow it up to his face. It’s not angry or upset. No, he is looking at you with tenderness. Like he wants you to know that he means what he says, like really truly cares. 

“Well, I can’t like, not go to work. The girls would be furious. God, Cass would go ballistic. With the whole buyout thingy happening. It’s fine I can sleep later, Max,” you hum as you look at him. You try and turn to start to get ready but his hand is firmly planted on your shoulder. 

“Sweetheart, you’re staying home,” his tone is serious, it doesn’t sound threatening or mean, but you know what he’s implying - there isn’t room for negotiation here, you’re staying home today. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You put on a big pout. It’s not that you wanted to work necessarily. It was just, the idea of being stuck in Max’s house alone didn’t exactly appeal to you either. He had a lot of helpers around the house, who no doubt would be judgmental of Max bringing home one of his assistants in the middle of the night. 

“Well, what do you feel like doing?” He chuckles as he faces the mirror around looking around for something. You notice he is missing his tie, so you stride into his closet. You look at the ridiculous amount of ties on the rack and run your fingers along with them until fingers stop on a dark blue one. It’s simple. Nothing flashy. The opposite of what Max usually wears. You pick it out and walk back out and tap Max on the shoulder handing it to him. He seems surprised by this simple gesture. He looks at the tie in your outstretched hand and smiles. He doesn’t say anything as he takes it. You casually sneak past him and hop up onto the bathroom counter so you can join him while he gets ready. 

Max seems surprised by all of this and he just watches you for a moment as you roll your neck back and forth trying to stretch. Finally, he reaches down and takes your chin in his hand. You can feel the coolness of his pinky ring as it presses into your jaw. You smile up at him groggily, still feeling the pulls of sleep dragging you down. He leans down and presses his lips to yours.

“I love you, too,” he whispers. You wonder what he means for a moment. He loved you too? You hadn’t said anything of the sort. But then you look at the tie, and you look at yourself on the bathroom counter this early in the morning and you realize - Max saw your want to spend time with him as your own declaration of love. By simply wanting to be in his presence you were telling him that you loved him. By putting in the effort to be around him, even when it wasn’t convenient for you, he saw this as an expression of love. You felt so silly for not seeing this before. Max didn’t have any real, meaningful relationships in his life. In fact, you can’t think of anyone Max had in his life--besides you--that he considered important. And so your simple gesture must mean the world to him, and your heart swells at the thought. You wanted to make sure you could give him every ounce of love because he fucking deserved it.

“And I’ll give you anything in the fucking world to prove it,” he mutters against your skin. 

You giggle as you thread your fingers in his hair. 

“I don’t want anything in the world. I _want_ you, silly.”

You can see the surprise in his eyes when you say this. He takes a minute to lace his hands into yours, placing a soft kiss on each wrist. You just stare at him with a lazy smile. He considers you for a moment before resting his forehead on yours, closing his eyes.

“You truly are the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met. I don’t want you to forget that.”

“Okay, Mr. Lord. I won’t,” you press a kiss to his lips. He looks down at you as if he is trying to read your mind. You just smile at him, it might be because you're still so tired, or maybe it’s because you haven’t fully grasped the situation yet, but you feel so happy. It’s the first time in a long time you feel utterly content with your life. To just sit here. Not feeling the need to drag yourself off to work. Or that crazy need to impress Max in some way that had always persisted in the back of your mind that seemed to have just evaporated overnight. You are so overwhelmingly happy to be here with him. You reach up and kiss his nose, just because you can, and you giggle at his surprise. 

“Fuck, I don’t want to leave you here, but I have things that I have to take care of…they really can’t wait.”

“I know, don’t worry. I work for you remember? I know your whole schedule for this week!”

“Then you know I’m running horribly late.” 

“Mmhmm, do you…need breakfast or something?” You ask tentatively. You realize you had never, once, gotten Max breakfast. You aren’t even sure if he eats breakfast. You had gotten him coffee. You had gotten him coffee by the gallon. Sometimes you would bring him a coffee just because you wanted to see him in the middle of the afternoon. He had an espresso machine in his office. He didn’t need your pathetic cups of coffee, but he had never once told you to stop. 

“Are you going to cook it?” He sounds amused as he pulls back and goes to straighten his hair. He is now fully focused on getting ready. Brushing off his sleeves, and throwing the tie you had presented him around his neck. 

“Hey, I’ll have you know, I’m actually a _very_ good cook.”

He doesn’t answer for a moment as he bites his tongue to focus on tying his tie in perfect fashion. He straightens it before reaching around you and grabbing the perfectly pressed suit jacket off the hanger and shrugging it on. 

“I don’t doubt you are a wonderful cook, darling. I look forward to trying it very soon,” he extends his hand and you take it sliding off the counter. He leads you back out into the bedroom. He walks you over to the bed and you hop under the covers. Max grabs his phone and tucks it into his pocket, as he scrolls through his other work phone, stress painting his features. “But for now, I want you to rest. I will make sure no one disturbs you for the rest of the day.”

“When will you be home?” You try and sound as neutral as possible. You really do. You don’t want to cause Max any more inconvenience. You still aren’t sure you’ve fully processed all the emotions and feelings that have been expressed in the past 12 hours, so you shouldn’t be saying anything at all. You should just shut up. You just need to let Max do whatever he needs to do because you cannot afford to be a burden to the most important person in your life. But your voice comes out and it sounds so small. It sounds _scared_. It sounds downright pathetic. You can see it register on Max’s face that you are asking because you want him there with you. You can see his expression soften, and you hate yourself. You need to be strong. Ruthless. Cunning. Like all the things Maxwell Lord expected other people to be. 

“What if I promise to come back as soon as I’m able?” 

“That’s fair,” you hum. 

“What if I promise to come home as soon as I am able IF...” you let out a small huff as he tags on the _if_ , knowing there is always an addition with Max. “You promise not to leave this bed, and rest? No matter what. Even if work calls you.”

You tilt your head up at him as you consider his proposition.

“Okay. But what if I have to pee?”

“Okay. Fine. You can get out of bed to pee,” he chuckles at the silliness of your question. “But not a single work call, do you understand?”

“Why would I take a work call? My boss is in bed with me.” 

⇄♡⇆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr - @perropascal


	3. national anthem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell makes sure you see what he sees.

⇄♡⇆

You’re standing in front of the huge, intimidating mahogany doors, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet, wondering if this is a good idea. You sit here contemplating the last seven days of your life, and how you ended up here as you glance down at your outfit - you’re in a pair of Max’s plaid boxer shorts, an old worn-out t-shirt, and a pair of his nice cashmere dress socks, pulled up just below your knee. You have to let out a tiny little laugh at just how drastically the events of the last week had shifted everything in your life. 

It’s Saturday, which means you’d been staying with Max for nearly a week now. And it would be lying if you said this hadn’t been the best week of your entire life.

Despite his offering, you still had not ventured out into the world to expand your wardrobe and replace the items that had been damaged. So you had spent the entirety of your week lounging in Max’s lavish penthouse finding various ways to occupy your time. 

You wanted to do it yourself, not trusting others to pick out things you might like - and more importantly, within a price range you find acceptable - so you had just been lounging in whatever clothes you fancied in Max’s closet. He didn’t seem to mind, finding you waiting by the door every day when he returned, and eagerly removing the clothes as quickly as he could, making sure to keep them off for most of the evening. And all of the night. And most of the mornings. 

Maxwell had insisted that you spend the entire week at his home ‘resting’. It was ridiculous. You weren’t injured, and the break-in had been upsetting, sure, but you didn’t need to take a week off for “emotional distress” as Max kept putting it. But you didn’t complain. A week off was a week off.

That first day Max had come home to find you mulling about the house, too scared to touch anything and too bored to not go exploring at least a little. He had made good on his promise and was home in time for lunch - which consisted of a sandwich very poorly prepared by you before he then turned his attention to eating you out on the kitchen counter for close to an hour. He couldn’t believe that he got to savor every little taste of you, every squirm under his touch from you, every small sound you made, and now outside the confines of his office he made sure you didn’t just make lots of small sounds but lots of not so small ones too. 

You begged Max to take you and fuck you properly in a bed for the first time, but he insisted that you had to rest up. He needed to work for just a few hours in his office then he would fuck you until you begged him to stop. He tucked you back into his enormous, fancy bed but Maxwell Lord never misses a thing and he could see the slightest pout on your lips. You feel his hand as he brings your eyes to meet him, and you can see he is searching you for a question. You really don’t want to tell him, but he can read you so well, and he is so handsome and so he doesn’t even have to say the words to ask.

“Uh, it’s just, I usually...well, I usually take a hit or two before I go to sleep.”

He looks at you for a minute before a smile twists at the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie, are you telling me, the CEO of the company that employs you, that has a very _very_ strict drug policy, that you have been _knowingly_ violating that drug policy?” 

He looks at you very seriously and you shrink under his gaze biting your lip. You feel his hands snaking their way into yours and pinning them above your head.

“If I remind you how good my pussy tastes,” you whisper as you bring your lips up to meet him, you can still taste yourself as you try and kiss him more deeply but he pulls away with a smirk. 

“You think you can fuck your way out of this?” His eyes are dark and filled with lust. You don’t say anything as you look up into his eyes and he squeezes your hands. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I can fuck my way out of anything, Mr. Lord.”

And you do. 

And Max never does make it to those afternoon meetings he mentioned. 

It’s the first time in years that Max is forced to call out sick from work because he has come down quite suddenly with something. He keeps telling you that he has a horrible case of ‘you’ as he holds you to his chest and you play with his hair. You try to make him apologize for being too cheesy but he refuses and instead shows you how serious he is about his new self-diagnosis. 

Max made good on his promise. Your stuff had been recovered within hours, the man arrested and charged. He assured you he would take care of everything, legally speaking. Your laptop was busted, and your Switch unusable. You had shrugged it off when Max had told you, telling him you would find a way to replace it all eventually. 

Of course, the next morning all new stuff had arrived at the base of your bed. You decided not to fight him on it, partly because you knew it was important that he feel like he protects you at least a little, and also you really wanted to play on the Switch which Max made sure came preloaded with every major game. You have to assume someone at the office had been sent on a quest yesterday to provide you with the most up to date, best experience Nintendo had to offer and your heart glows at the thought of Maxwell explaining to one of the other girls - who you likely hated - unaware that they were secretly retrieving it for you. 

So you had spent the last six days ‘resting’.

What that really meant - you got to stay home all day, smoke as much pot as you wanted, eat whatever you wanted, watch TV until your eyes hurt, and then you got to have copious amounts of sex as soon as Max walked through the door. 

That’s it. 

That’s all the last six days had consisted of. But now it’s Saturday afternoon and you had just woken up, having been kept up by Max insisting on eating you out until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore as you lazily tugged on his hair and pulled him up to snuggle you to sleep. But Max had other plans, he asked if he could keep going down on you. He just wanted to taste you. To keep tasting you as long as he could. You couldn’t imagine why but you let him, eventually passing out, not waking until now. 

It’s well past noon, and you know Max had been up for hours. There is a good chance he had gone into the office, he never took a day off, everyone knows this about him, and you doubt your presence was going to change just deeply ingrained habits. But you are still nervous to knock on the door to his home office. 

Maxwell’s home office was his sacred space. No one was allowed in there, except him. He never held meetings here because it was his space. He has told you that he liked to separate himself from the world so that he could focus solely on whatever problem he needed to solve. He didn’t even allow the maids in to clean. He locked it before he left for work in the morning, and as far as you knew it stayed locked unless he was in the office. 

So you shouldn’t be nervous, it’s probably locked and he’s at the office. He’ll be home in a few hours and your little routine will continue. You bite your lip and put your hand on the handle and push it down ever so slightly. When it moves you jump back. 

It’s unlocked. 

You take a deep breath, and raise your hand to knock but before your hand lands on the wood the door swings open. Max looks angry like he’s about to yell at whoever decided to interrupt him, before his eyes land on you and they suddenly brighten. 

“Darling!” He exclaims as he reaches down and wraps his arms around your back and picks you up ever so slightly. You're surprised by his excitement and squeak as he sets you down. “You were starting to worry me. I was starting to think I may have been a little too rough on you last night.” 

“In your dreams, old man,” you giggle as you reach up and kiss him. He chuckles against your lips as you wrap your arms around him and lean into him. “I missed you.”

“Missed me? I never left,” he chuckles as he turns pulling you into the room. You stop in the doorway before he can pull you in completely. He stops and looks at you concerned. You shuffle back a step and look down at your feet. 

“Am I - am I allowed in here?” You don’t look him in the eye as you mumble this, embarrassed by your lack of confidence. You hear Max let out a small sigh before taking your chin in his massive hands. You close your eyes and feel the press of his cool rings to your cheek. 

“Sweetheart, this is your house too, you are allowed to be wherever you want to be.”

You hesitate again. “Okay, Max, the thing is... you keep saying this is my house, but - but it’s not. I don’t pay rent or anything and I am not going to mooch off - "

Max holds up his hand and you stop talking mid-sentence. He doesn’t say anything and you look around his raised hand as you take it in your own. He doesn’t look upset, he looks almost...amused.

“I don’t want to have this conversation this early in the morning.” You tilt your head at him, confused before you burst out laughing. 

“Did you just….tell a joke, Max?” You have to lean over to catch your breath. He walks over to you and takes you in his arms. 

“I made you laugh didn’t I?” He wraps his arms around in a warm embrace and pulls you into his chest. You continue to giggle and you just bury your head into the crook of his neck and smile. “You know, I missed you too. All morning. I was considering coming and waking you up the same way I put you to bed.”

“Is that so?” You say. “I wouldn’t have minded. You’re always welcome down there.” 

“Always?” 

You pull back and kiss the tip of his nose before you look over his shoulder curiosity has finally gotten the better of you. You peek over his shoulder to get a better look at the room. You know you are likely one of the few, if not the only person, who had seen the inside of this room, and there is a strange intimacy in knowing this as you let go of Max. You let your hands run along with the massive wooden desk and the few tiny knick-knacks Max had allotted on it to the bookshelf that covered the wall from floor to ceiling. You run your fingers over a few titles and notice they are in different languages. 

“You never told me you spoke French!” You exclaim excitedly.

“You never asked,” Max seems amused by your excitement. 

“I took it in high school,” you throw him a little wink. “ _Je parle un peu_.” You butcher the accent and you aren’t totally sure those are the right words but Max smiles broadly in your direction. So you rake your brains for any other phrases that you had kept stored away from a rainy day - then it dawns on you, and you look at him slyly. “ _Est-ce que tu aimes le sexe_?”

“You learned that in your high school French class?” You stare at him for a moment trying to sing the song over in your head to remember the next line. He can tell you are trying to remember something so he remains silent for a moment longer than what would be normal, finally, your eyes snap up.

“ _Le sexe!_ ” You exclaim excitedly, reciting the lyrics in a shout, and a piss poor accent. “ _Je veux dire, l'activité physique_.” You pretend to do a hair-flipping motion as you throw him a wink. “Beyonce, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Max chuckles.

“Wait, this is Spanish. And this...this is Latin.” You point to the binding of another one of the books as you pull it out of the shelf. You can feel Max’s hand on your waist as you run your hand along the shelf. You can feel his hand tracing along the waistband of your shorts. “This is...Hebrew and that’s….Arabic, I’m pretty sure. Max, do you really speak all these languages?”

“I can’t say I speak them well, but it’s a part of doing business. All over the globe, I suppose.”

“Yeah, but these are all novels, not business stuff,” you point out as you regard his rather large collection of novels, some you recognize for the art, most you don’t. 

“They are.” 

You turn and smile at him. 

“Is that why you don’t let people in here? You don’t want them to know you’re secretly a ol’ big softy?”

“Who said I don’t love art?” He reaches around and turns you so you are facing him. 

“I don’t know, you don’t really strike me as an artsy type Maxwell,” you reach up and kiss him. You loved kissing him. Before when you were at the office you always felt rushed, like you could be interrupted like there was something to hide. But now you could take your time and just kiss him. You didn’t know how simple this pleasure would be until you got to have it all the time, but now you’d never be able to live without it. The phone on his desk beeps loudly and you hear the familiar voice of one of his other assistants come over the speaker reminding Max he was late for a conference call. “Wait, what are you doing in here? It’s the weekend?“

“Working on that idiotic merger, I believe you called it several times.” 

“It's _Saturday_.” You state plainly as he moves back across the room. He picks up his iPad from the couch and sits down before picking up one of his phones and sighing. 

“Well, unfortunately, I have to work. On the idiotic merger, mind you.” 

“Max, _it is_ idiotic. You _agree_ with me. You are only doing this to appease the other companies shareholders because it will likely boost _your_ short-term revenue, and that is because your witch of an ex-wife - "

“ _Current_ , wife. And regardless of the reasoning behind it, I’m the one stuck working on it.” 

“Well then….what are you working on?” You walk over and glance over his shoulder, he isn’t annoyed by your presence you can tell, he would let you know if you had overstepped. Instead, he seems almost calmed by your company and reaches out for your legs, gently rubs the back of your thighs. 

“Nothing you'd find interesting apparently,” he says as he looks back down at his iPad with disinterest. 

“Well _excuse me_ , Mr. Businessman,” you say with biting sarcasm, something you wouldn’t have dared to try even just a week ago. You can see a small twinkle in his eye as he regards you standing in front of him with your arms crossed looking as determined as ever. “But you see Mr. Lord, I do have a degree in business so I'm not totally useless.” His eyes don’t leave the screen of his cursed iPad, so you put a hand on top of his and he looks up. 

“Top of your class if I'm not mistaken, ” he hesitates as he looks up from the screen.

“Yes,” you whisper as you lean forward, crawling onto his lap, straddling him. You take the iPad out of his hand and toss it to the side. He relents to your advances as he sighs and puts his arms around you pulling you fully flush against him. 

“It’s the reason I hired you.”

“Yeah, right,” you giggle as you put your arms around his neck and tug likely at the back of his neck. “I’m sure _that’s_ the reason you always hire all those young sexy women. Their big brains.” 

“No, actually that part is true,” Max looks at you and does a quick glance up and down. Your shorts are riding up so your ass is exposed and you feel his hands tracing your legs gently. “I can understand the irony of this conversation, believe me, but I can promise you I always ask for only top recruits out of any class.” 

“But they’re like always girls? Like _always_.”

“I’m well aware of that, darling.” He doesn’t add anything more and you look at him for a second and realize he’s being serious. You put your hands on his chest and tilt your head in suspicion as if you are missing some inside joke.

“Wait, you’re being serious?”

“I am.” 

“You always hire those women….because….they are the…..best?” He lets you finish the question as you try and find the right words. 

“You know, I thought you of all people would be the most unsurprised by this fact.” 

“Which part? That girls are smarter than boys? Or that Maxwell Lord is secretly a ‘radical feminist’?”

He chuckles as he just pulls you down onto his chest and places a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“You know, when I took this job, I was only supposed to work for you for nine months. A year, _maybe_ ,” you hum as you draw circles on his chest mindlessly. 

“Wait, it's been nearly three?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it has, hasn’t it?”

“What kept you?” You stop moving your hand for a second and pull back to give him a look. He knows the answer, and you know he knows, but he wants you to say it. But you don’t say anything before you turn back to the pattern you were creating on his chest. “Well, what _was_ your plan?”

“Hmm, it’s hard to think about it now,” you can feel his stare on you, so you opt to continue the invisible drawing you were creating. “But I _wanted_ to go back to school. I wanted to get my MBA. So _eventually_ I could start my own non-profit one day, hopefully, I wanted to help kids like me, who didn’t have - well didn’t have a lot growing up, so I wanted to help with a literacy program, at a library. I like reading. A lot. _Obviously_ , but you know that don’t you Mr. Lord?” you are rambling again. 

You ramble when you’re nervous. You can feel Max’s hand gently guide your chin back to his eyes and you feel yourself relax as soon as you see yourself in his eyes. You can see yourself reflected back in his soft brown eyes and it feels you with a deep sense of comfort, for a moment maybe you can catch a glimpse of how he sees you. He leans his head regarding you, you can tell he is trying to get inside your head, to see exactly what you are thinking.

“Well, why don’t you do that now?”

“I have to have a job, Max,” you roll your eyes. Max’s concept of money never fails to amaze you. He always told you that you could pursue whatever scattered, half-brained idea you would ramble on about on some random afternoon like you had that option. Like you could just decide to pick up your life at any random moment, and just do whatever you wanted to do. “I have bills to pay, I'm already _months_ behind on my loans as is, not to mention my mom’s place.” You freeze as soon as you say this and frantically grab Max’s face and look into his eyes petrified. “Oh God, what day is it? Oh Jesus, please say it’s not the third? Please.”

“It’s the second.”

“Oh thank God,” you relax as soon as he says it. “Okay, now _that_ we can work with.” 

“What’s so bad about the third?” He asks, somewhat amused. 

“My mom’s rent is due on the third and her landlord is insane, I mean legally - "

“What are you talking about?” He interrupts. 

“Oh, right, well I help my mom out with a few things now cause of the whole - ”

“How much?” You can hear his tone change and you start to twist your hands in your lap looking everywhere but at Max’s eyes.

“Well...not much just like….basically…just a little,” you feel the familiar press of his cool rings to your jaw as he turns your head so you look at him. He doesn’t ask the question again, but you know with the way he is looking at you the question is lingering still, and you know he won’t ask again. You turn your eyes to the ceiling, despite Max’s hand on your chin, willing yourself to look anywhere else but his eyes. “I just pay…..all. I pay all of it.” You rush out the last part of it hoping if you say it fast enough maybe Max might not pick up on it. 

“I'm sorry. Am I made to believe you've been paying rent for two apartments in Manhattan on your own?”

“Yes? I don’t need to explain myself to you.” You say it a little defensively. And you know it. Your arrangement with your mother was unconventional, and you know that too. You didn’t like telling people about it because they usually made you feel guilty for helping her out. And then they made her sound like a horrible person when that reality was so far from the truth. She was a great mom, she had just been thrown a terrible set of circumstances and she couldn’t change them, but people didn’t like to listen to part of the story. They just like to feel superior about their own little lives. 

“Darling...why wouldn't...why wouldn't you tell me?”

“Why would I? I didn't need help. Besides I am not - "

“It sounds like you do need help- "

“No, I have it handled. If _someone_ will let me get back to work.” 

“Darling, you don’t need to work more. You need help.” 

You open your mouth ready to fight him on it but he puts his hand up and presses his finger to your lips. “I am not asking you for anything in return. But there is no amount of work you can do that is going to improve this situation. I know how much you make, darling. I write the checks.”

“Yes, and I am thankful for that. But I have made it work so far! Right?”

“No, you just told me you were behind on payments - ”

“Okay student loans payments hardly count as real,” you roll your eyes at this. “What are they going to do? Take back my education? Honestly, Max, everyone knows that’s fake.” 

“Okay, darling it isn’t fake. They can still ruin a lot in your life. Your credit score for one.”

You burst out laughing. You actually do a double-take as you look at him. He looks at you with concern. You have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing harder at him. 

“Yeah Max, that’s why I am living where I am living. Because I have ‘good credit’. Honestly, Max, this is how people live, it’s _normal._ ” 

“But I don’t want you to live like that.”

“Well, you don’t really get a say, Max. This is just….my life. This is who I am.” 

“Darling, if only there was someone you knew who wanted to help you if only there was some arrangement that could be made with this person. If only there was some way - ”

“I don’t want to just be your little sex doll or whatever,” you cut him off. You aren’t interested in having whatever conversation he wants to have. You had made up your mind so long ago you had never even considered it an option. Max was your friend. And you knew he had money, obviously, you knew that. Everyone on the planet knew that. But you weren’t going to be the type of person that asked for it. You were never going to start down that path because once you did you knew that they would hold some invisible power over you. And you didn’t want to give Max that power, because you couldn't stand the idea of him not wanting anything other than your truest, most authentic self. “I want to be useful to you.”

“What’s wrong with that? You’d be very useful as my sex doll,” You can hear it in his tone that he is joking, but you still make a point to turn your chin up towards him making it clear you resent such a comment. He sighs deeply, taking your hands in his and placing them gently on his shoulders. “I thought I made it _very clear_ that this was a little more than just a sex thing.”

“Well, yeah. You have. And I feel that same - "

“So am I not allowed to help my good friend.”

“Oh? I’m just ‘a good friend’ now?”

“Is there another term we should be using?” Max looks at you in delight. 

“Hmmm?” You pretend to think for a second, putting your finger on your chin. Max smiles and leans forward and kisses the back of your hand. You snap your fingers, “By golly I got it! Girlfriend does sound much better doesn’t it.”

“Well, boyfriends can usually buy their girlfriends things.”

You purse your lips as you cross your arms again, giving him a small little ‘hmph’. You can tell he thinks you are being ridiculous and he finds it amusing. You regard him for a long moment. You put your hands on either side of his face and run them along his cheeks and into his hair. You wish more than anything he would let it grow into its natural brown and not the ridiculous blonde he insisted on dying it. 

You wish you knew what he was thinking. God, you wish you could just get a glimpse into his mind for just the briefest of moments. You loved Maxwell Lord, you knew you did, you couldn’t deny it any longer. Especially after this week, after everything he had done for you, he had shown you every kindness and affection this world had to offer. 

But you still _doubted_ him. 

You were still so terrified of what it meant to be Maxwell Lord’s girl. You _literally_ couldn’t be his girl, not legally anyway. Which was fine, more than fine than actually. You didn’t need to get married to Maxwell Lord. But what if one day he decided you weren’t his girl anymore? What if one day he decided that the next round of young hot interns from NYU were better than you? 

What then? 

What if he wanted all the expensive shit he bought you back? 

What if he just decided and took it all back? Leaving your ass high and dry in the middle of the New York City streets in winter, with nothing but a coat and a few toys. Running off with a new mistress, and into a new life, leaving you here to wonder why you weren’t good enough yet again.

Okay, maybe there was more to you not trusting Max than just a little _doubt._

But still, you had learned the hard way it was better to just be independent. As completely and totally as possible. No matter how much it hurt in the long run. You knew from experience that no matter how much two people loved each other, another would always walk into the picture and steal one away from the other. 

But you loved Max. You really, truly did. And some part of you believed he loved you too. You were the first person to ever enter his study, which had to mean something. He had to love and trust you on some fundamental level….right?

“Okay, you can help me. But,” you think over your next words carefully. “I don’t want you to buy me anything nice or expensive, but I will let you help me and my mom out.” 

He lets out a hardy laugh at this. 

“That is so very generous of you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you straighten your back and smile at him triumphantly. “I think so too.”

“You know, every time I think I have you figured out you always surprise me,” he wraps his arms around your back and pulls you down for a kiss before he murmurs your name over and over against your lips. Finally, he lets out an exasperated sigh as you pull back with a giggle. He runs his thumb along your bottom lip and you nip at it lightly as he studies every feature of your face carefully. “Every other woman in this city would want me to spoil them rotten with all this money I have, but not you. Why? Tell me. I have never asked in this time because I have never cared but now, I have to know. Why, darling, why won’t you let me use this money to spoil you?”

“I thought you would’ve figured it out by now, since you are so smart and all - I like _you_ , Max. I want to spend time with you. And I don’t want you to think you have to buy me nice things to do that, I just like you. Being with you. That’s all. It’s just…. _you_.”

“You are astonishing,” he whispers reverently as he continues to stare at you. You lean your head to one side in a lopsided grin. He looks back before nervously asking, “Can I give you one thing?”

“Is it nice?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“Well, I’m asking you,” you wiggle, your hips slightly on his lap and he shifts to avoid letting you get more friction against him. 

“I would say yes.”

“Then I don’t want it.”

“Darling…,” you can tell he doesn’t like the answer. He sounds exhausted and your heart breaks a little at the sounds so you take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles gently. 

“Okay, ONE, nice thing,” you emphasize. “But that’s it. I’m cutting you off at ONE.”

“We will see,” he smiles. He points to his desk. “It’s in the top, right drawer.”

“Wait, you already got it?”

“I….have had it for a while, actually,” he looks at you shyly. 

“Really?”

“I have been wanting to give it to you for a while, I just haven’t found the right time to ask. And now feels right.”

You scoot off his lap, making your way to his desk cautiously, wondering what in the word he could have gotten you already that would have been so premeditated. You open the drawer and inside here is a small, elegant blue box. You lift it up for him to see and he nods. You walk back, examining the fancy little box, now more confused than ever. You crawl back into his lap and his hands come and rest gently on the small of your back. You look at him, silently asking for permission and he just smiles with a little nod, so you lift the box to peek under the lid. 

A key. 

You pull it out. 

It’s a tiny, silver key. 

“It’s a key,” you state plainly. You look at the key, confused, then back at Max. “Okay….what am I missing here?”

You can tell he is a little disappointed that you didn’t put together whatever gift he had obviously put a lot of thought into. So he puts his hand on top of yours and closes it into a fist around the key. 

“A home. If you want it.”

You look down at his hand. And then back up at his eyes, then back down slowly at his fist. Realization dawning on your features and you literally jump up from his lap dropping the key like it was searing a hole in your skin.

_“Holy fucking shit balls!?!_ ”

You look between the key and thoroughly surprised looking, Max.

“I have to say I thought about your reaction to this moment a lot. And that, well that was never one of them.”

“Max are you serious?!” You get on your knees, grabbing his hands for something solid to hold as you crawl between his legs. You can feel the tears stinging your eyes. Your heart is racing as if it will beat right through your chest. You have no idea what emotion is currently at the forefront of your mind because you are feeling everything. _Everything._ In the last 10 seconds, you felt more than you felt in your entire life. And you aren’t sure you are going to be able to form the words as you bring his hands to your face and stare up at him in desperation. 

“Darling, I’m entirely serious, but I am much more concerned about you. Are you alright?”

“You…. really you care about me _that_ much?”

“What else do I have to do to make you believe me?” Max takes your face in his hands and he's looking at you with such hurt and pain in those deep brown eyes of his that you feel the tears spillover. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Max, I didn’t mean to - fuck sorry, I - "

“I swear if you say sorry one more time - "

“You’ll what? Fuck me on top of the desk over there?” You hiccup as you wipe away the tears. He smiles down at you pathetically. 

“You don’t get to get out of this by being cute.”

“This isn’t cute,” you sniffle as you lean your head on his thigh looking up at him.

“I think you’re pretty when you cry,” he leans down and kisses the tip of your nose. You both sit there for a moment as you cry into his lap pathetically, wanting more than anything to crawl into a hole and die. The most amazing thing in the world had just happened, and instead of being sexy and cool about it, you wear wiping your snot on your boyfriend's very expensive dress pants. After several minutes Max gently takes your face and turns it so you are looking up at him. He is staring at you with the softest expression, and you feel like the love between the two of you is physically tangible for the briefest of seconds. “Would it be too much to ask for an answer to the question I’ve been wanting to ask you since your birthday?”

“My birthday is in June.” 

“I am well aware.”

“It’s December.”

“I am very well aware of today’s date.” 

“You were going to ask me to move in….in June?”

“Was I being a bit presumptuous?”

“I...don’t...know what to say,” you push yourself off the ground picking the key off the ground. This was a lot of information. Like, almost too much information. You sit down on the couch next to Max and turn the little silver key over in your hand. You feel Max’s arm wrap around your waist and he pulls you into his side. 

“It’s not actually to the front door,” he whispered in your ear. “You probably noticed the security. The elevator has a scan feature for your finger that you will key into, and the front door has a code. The key is for the room upstairs with all your stuff. I thought you would like your own space. For an office or whatever you’d like.”

You literally cannot process anything he just said to you. Your brain is short-circuiting. There is too much information trying to make its way through your brain. What did he mean about your own space? You just stare down at the key in your hand. You don’t move and you can feel Max shift next to you. But you can’t possibly move away from this spot because that would mean you needed to acknowledge moving beyond this moment in time.

“We can renovate it, to whatever you like, you know. I know you like working out. I have the other rooms too. We could do a total renovation if you’d like maybe? The whole thing. It could be a project. If that is something you are interested in,” Max is rambling now. “Darling, would you mind saying something, anything?”

You had never seen Maxwell Lord nervous, Not until this moment. You were the reason Maxwell Lord was nervous. Your non-answer was the reason Maxwell Lord was nervous. This causes something to stir inside you. 

“You’re nervous,” you state. You look up at him and he seems surprised by these words. 

“Yes, I am quite nervous.”

“I - meaning me,” you point to yourself. “Made you nervous.” 

“Yes? Darling,” he rests his hand on your shoulder as he strokes his thumb along your cheek. “You always make me nervous.”

“I _always_ make you nervous?” You look at him with widened eyes, shocked. He smiles, understanding suddenly entering his eyes. 

“I just asked my girlfriend, meaning you,” he points to you and you giggle. “Whom I love very much, and care about more than anything, to move in with me so I can build a life with her. Yes, I am nervous. You make me nervous because I think you are the most incredible human being I’ve ever met.”

“But…” you are still staring down at the tiny silver key. You can feel his hand on your shoulder as his thumb traces tiny circles on your cheek. You feel tears starting to spill over again as the question forms on the tip of the tongue. “Why me? I’m nothing special. I’m just…. _me._ ”

It’s Max’s chance to get on his knees. He is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your head pressing his forehead to yours, he is whispering your name reverently against your lips. 

“Never say that. Never say that to me again. You are too important. And you are too special. And I will spend everything I have and everything I am to make sure you know that. Do you understand me?” 

You can’t really reply because you can’t form the words. Your heart feels too full. So you form some coherent version of okay and say it over and over again as Max holds you there. Time doesn’t exist for a while, as the two of you sit there and you absorb the adoration Max feels for you. You just allow the love he feels for you to soak in through where your bodies are pressed together and eventually you press your lips to his and start kissing him. 

And then you can’t stop kissing, feverishly pressing your lips together as you cling to him. You pull on his shirt desperate to get him as close to you as you can, wanting to press your skin his, wanting to feel him. You want to feel every part of him, his weight on top of you, his skin pressed to yours. 

But Max has other plans as he lays you down in front of the fireplace in his study. He makes you repeat all the things he loves about you as he makes his way down your entire body. He takes his time, minutes on each and every body part, making you repeat his praises as he licks, kisses, nips, and sucks his way down.

And if you dare to disagree with him about how perfect you are in his eyes he goes back and kisses you with more praise, making you repeat them back over and over as he strokes your clit ever so slowly, teasingly. He spent hours, all afternoon, worshiping every last inch of your body and he hadn’t even fucked you. But your eyes are starting to close after the latest orgasm he’d given you. You had lost count at this point - you’d lost count when you’d hit double digits and he can see he’s worn you out for the afternoon. 

He places a kiss on your lips and lays next to you as he props himself up on his elbow. 

“You know I don’t mind when you fuck me, right?” you laugh as you reach up and run your fingers through his hair. 

“This afternoon was about you, my love. Tonight, however, is anyone’s guess,” he smiles at you suggestively. You bury your head into his chest. You are so full of happiness it feels just plain wrong. It feels like this marks the beginning of something. Like, you are jumping headfirst into the unknown but it didn’t matter because Maxwell was there to catch you. 

As you lay back down tangling your fingers through his hair there are so many things you want to know about Maxwell. It feels like there isn’t enough time in the world to ask every question crawling through your mind about the man in front of you. So you settle on the simplest to start. 

“What _did_ you want to be when you grow up? I know it wasn’t a CEO of the world’s most successful energy company.”

“Well, I wanted to be a lot of things….but I remember really wanting to be a football player.” 

“Really? You mean like soccer, right?”

“It’s football, darling. But yes,” you roll your eyes making sure he sees and he leans down and bites your bottom lips playfully. “But my parents thought it was silly, so they sent me to boarding school. And now here I am with the most exquisite woman alive. So it worked out,” he runs his fingers delicately down your neck, along your collarbone and you shiver. “What about you?”

You don’t even have to think about it.

“Librarian,” you answer. “I always dreamed of being around books. Just, the idea of getting to be around stories that are just there….that people just gotta create. From their minds! It’s so amazing to me! Ugh, I always loved the idea. But I needed something practical. And obviously, my degree paid off, since I got a pretty good internship out of it.”

“You’re the best intern I’ve ever had,” he smiles as you turn, looking at him. 

“Max, I really want to move in with you, I truly deeply, desperately do,” you fingers down the curve of his nose, trying to get him to understand with a pleading look. 

“Why do I feel a but coming on?”

“I’m just really scared. I know…. I know I’ve mentioned my parents. Like, my dad or whatever you want to call him. And I...well, what if you get bored of me? And I know what you are going to say! Please, I do! Like, trust me I have heard this before. I want to believe you, it’s just….well you know the whole thing, we’ve discussed this and it’s not you - I think we both know it’s clearly my fuck up past and well, that’s not you- okay yes, rambling, I see it,” you stop yourself when he gives you the ‘darling-you’re-doing-it-again’ look and close your mouth and take a breath. Max runs his hand down your naked torso and back up to your chin taking it in his hands and turning it so you're looking straight into his eyes. 

“How about a compromise?”

“Ugh, you are such a businessman.”

“The best,” he smirks. “What if we take it slow? You move in for a little bit while you are looking for a better living situation? And if you like it then you can stay as long as you like.” 

You consider him, thinking over all the possible ways this could go wrong. 

“And if I don’t like it?”

“Then, I would like to _help_ ,” he emphasizes the word help more than necessary and you nudge him in the ribs playfully. “I would like to _help_ you find a place for you to live that isn’t held together by a butcher knife and a prayer. Preferably close, so I can visit often, but we can negotiate that part later.” 

You grin at him because he included the continuation of your relationship no matter what you decided. Because, apparently Maxwell Lord, like really loved you. Your chest feels like it is going to explode with just the thought. 

“Okay, Mr. Lord, you have yourself a deal.”

⇄♡⇆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr - perropascal


	4. money power glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and max work on making your relationship official.

⇄♡⇆

_Where are you_

_I needed you here 15 minutes ago_

You bite your lip as your phone lights up again with yet another unread message.

Maxwell Lord is a lot of things, patient however isn’t one of them. You look up from your keyboard behind the desk in the lobby outside Maxwell’s office, where you were currently stationed at one of the five desks usually womened by his interns. Currently in the lobby behind two of the five desks is you and Gwen Watson, who you remained mostly indifferent towards; she was new enough to be innocent. But closest to the door, at the leader’s station where her assignments included manning the door, fielding all the calls, answering his personal intercom, and managing every other aspect of Max’s schedule throughout the day, in the most sought after position among The Babies, sat your mortal enemy - Cassandra Bella Lynn Ryder. 

The office politics among the young, mostly female, interns could have been turned into its own reality show. The drama that came with every single action taken by any of the girls - hair cuts, manicure colors, new outfits, vacation locations, days off, doctor’s appointments, sudden family deaths, illnesses - were subject to direct and endless scrutiny by everyone in the office. You had always been a shy person by nature, avoiding getting involved in any major drama at all of your previous jobs. People usually liked you because you were good at what you did with little direction or supervision, rarely missed a day of work, and were always polite. 

But none of that mattered at Black Gold. None. Zip. Nada.

Here you had to be involved in everyone’s life because they needed to be involved in yours That’s just how things worked here. And because you were young, fresh-faced, just out of college, and desperate to make a good impression in the cutthroat business world, you believed everything the girls told you and all the cruelty that came with it.

The hierarchy of ‘Maxwell’s Babies’ - as they were often referred to - is complicated, messy, and unless you join it yourself, nearly impossible to comprehend its structure and inner workings. When you had first started working at Black Gold, you remember trying to explain to your mom exactly what the ‘Group Lead’ did. But she didn’t understand why Max didn’t more clearly define the roles the women did, and you remember thinking it was such a good point at the time. He was the boss, he should do something about his own staff!

But you suffered silently. And for the first few months, you just held your head down and said nothing. When you first join the team, you are the lowest of the low, and you were treated accordingly. It’s a common joke that no one bothers learning the new intern’s name because most don’t last more than a few weeks. So every day they would call you by a different cruel nickname, rotating through different letters of the alphabet each day of the week. “Hey, Ass!” “Hey, Bubblebutt!” “Hey Cunty!” and so on and so forth. But you tuned it out and focused on getting the scholarship that you knew you’d be rewarded at the end of this, then you would never, ever have to think of these horrible people again. 

Then the Christmas party happened. 

Whatever you said to Maxwell that fateful night changed the course of your life so dramatically, you sometimes lay at night reflecting on what if you hadn’t decided to go to that party. Or decided to drink so much liquid courage. Or said whatever it was that impressed Max as much as it did. What if none of those things happened? What path would your life have taken?

It doesn’t matter now because you did go, you did drink, and you did talk to Max. And the following Monday when he requested that you be moved from the lower levels, where you were kept strictly to run errands for one of the other assistants who was herself assistant to another assistant, to his lobby so that you could help assist him personally, upheaving years of carefully structured hierarchy. Well, let’s just say you became the subject of just about every scandalous rumor and hateful comment that those girls ever thought. 

The cruelty you endured those first few weeks was nearly unbearable, you almost quit more times than you can count. But you held on for one reason - Maxwell. There was something about all the times he called you in his office, asking for simple things - more coffee, some very easily obtainable information that you know he didn’t need you to get, and then even your opinion once or twice - that made you feel like you were special. It made you want to keep talking to him, it made you want to be around him in whatever capacity, no matter what it took, even if it meant surviving the endless name calling. You noticed after a while he called you in his office more than many of the other girls, and they noticed too.

One afternoon he even wandered out of his office, making his way to your desk, just to simply chat with you. The two of you chatting about weekend plans with your boyfriend at the time involving trying to scalp tickets to the Nets game. Maxwell abruptly offered to pay for court side tickets to Brooklyn Nets, pointing and snapping to one of the other girls to go downtown and grab the tickets from his special box office seats. When you looked around the office, the icy stares you received was all you needed to know that they would be only be redoubling their efforts to make your life a living hell. The following Monday you reached into your purse for some chapstick before shrieking in horror when you found a bag of live crickets had been let loose and there were literally hundreds of them just crawling freely around your purse. You threw the bag across the room in an attempt to get them off your hand, your purse hitting the wall in an explosion of angry crickets.

The pandemonium that followed caused quite a stir and ended with Maxwell calling his security team to come help the janitors chase and kill all the crickets, with five screaming girls on desks. He was not particularly happy about the interruption and asked all of you into his office to demand an answer from all of you. All five of you girls were lined up, and you could feel them glance at you with an air of triumph. You knew what was about to happen, but you were smarter. You weren’t about to let them win, so you spoke first. 

“It was my fault, Mr. Lord. I take full responsibility. Please, I deserve whatever punishment you decide is necessary.”

You know everyone is surprised by this confession, including Mr. Lord. 

“I’m sorry, am I made to believe that you of all people released a bag of crickets in the office as some strange prank?” 

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. I - you see - well, I know I mentioned my family situation, and one of my half-brothers has a pet lizard that I’m currently taking care of, and I picked those things up during lunch cause I have to feed the thing, while….well until things are worked out. I didn’t know they would….I’m really sorry, Mr. Lord. Please forgive me. It was not a smart decision on my part.”

Okay, so only bits of that were a lie. Technically. You said you had mentioned your family situation, and it was being worked out, and yeah, you are pretty sure at least one of your half-siblings had to have a lizard of some type….you just weren’t currently taking care of it. Nor would you probably ever meet it, let alone take care of it. But you know that the girls here can’t possibly know any of that information. None of them had any interest in your family situation or anything personal in your life that couldn’t be used against you in some way.

Maxwell however was vaguely aware of your situation and you knew him well enough at this point to know that he was wickedly smart. You watched him. You could tell at that moment he was trying to work out exactly what you were trying to tell him, by what you were not telling him. He studied the other girls who stood staring straight at the floor, then back at you. You tried your best to give him your best ‘sorry-I-let-a-bag-of-crickets-ruin-your-workday-even-though-it-wasn’t-actually-me-and-I’m-taking-the-fall-in-order-to-prove-to-everyone-in-this-room-I’m-not-afraid-of-them’ look. You are surprised when he seems to understand. 

“Well, I am very disappointed in you. Extremely so. What poor judgment you showed,” you can practically hear the girls squealing in triumph over him scolding you. “But the reaction today, all of you, not helping your fellow baby when she was in so much distress. I am so ashamed of all of you, babies,” now you can feel their eyes burning a hole in the side of your head, like you somehow caused any of what Max said to happen. “But since we have found our culprit. A _lizard_ who doesn’t work for me, _apparently_ , you are all dismissed.”

You remember turning around and starting towards the door thinking that you were remarkably lucky at that moment. Mr. Lord must’ve been really impressed with you if he wasn’t going to fire you. “Except you,” the words hit you, and though you weren’t even facing him, you knew what he meant. You stop dead in your tracks. You saw all the girls turn and the smug grins on all their faces told you what everyone already expected, this was your final moments at Black Gold. They make their way out the door and you see their faces, practically giddy with glee retreat out the door. Your current ruler and torturer, Molly, even blows you a kiss.

You hear the door close and you try to control your breathing. You don’t want to turn around, because if you do, Maxwell Lord was surely going to see you cry. You close your eyes and try to think of something, anything, that was going to stop the tears from coming. You hear your name spoken softly, and you slowly turn around to face him. 

“Mr. Lord, I’m sor-sorry, I - ”

He puts his hand up and you snap your mouth shut, bringing the back of your hand up to prevent yourself from sniffling and embarrassing yourself further. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s really going on? Or am I going to have to keep wondering why you look so miserable all the time?” He crosses his arms casually as he leans back on his desk, regarding you with a look of sorrow.

You look at him stunned, completely shocked his words weren’t to berate you. “You aren’t...going to fire me then?”

“Why would I? You didn’t bring the crickets in here.”

You open your mouth wanting to explain everything, but you know the girls had a tendency to listen at the door, and the last thing you needed was to be labeled a tattle-tale. Maxwell saw you shift your weight as you glanced nervously at the doors. 

“They can’t hear anything, no matter how hard they listen.” You looked at him with surprise, it’s as if he had been reading your thoughts. He pushes himself off his desk and walks towards you. He lifts his arms and gives you a look asking permission to touch you. You smile at him, nodding weakly, and he takes your hands in his before he gently rubs up your arms in a calming, reassuring motion. It takes a second for you to realize his intention, but then you notice how bad you’re shaking. “You didn’t really think an office that takes calls from presidents and prime ministers is going to be eavesdropped on by a bunch of gossipy interns?”

“No, I guess not,” you giggle as he very slowly pulls you in for a tight, reassuring hug. “I really am sorry though, I didn’t mean to pull out a bunch of crickets in your lobby, Mr. Lord.”

He’s quiet for a minute before pulling you back. He takes your shoulders and looks at you seriously. “Do you know which one of them put it there?” 

You look him dead in the eye and really think for a moment. You do know, of course, that Molly was the only one who could’ve done it. She is the only one who would’ve had access to your purse throughout the day unsupervised. But you aren’t going to tell him, and you think he already knows that as he studies your face. You give the slightest shake of your head before looking down at your feet, embarrassed by your lack of spine. 

“You are too good for this world, you know that?” 

“Hardly,” you whisper. You feel his fingers on your chin and suddenly you can’t breathe. 

That first time when you felt Maxwell guiding you to meet his eyes for the first time it felt like magic. He was always telling you exactly what he wanted to see and exactly what he wanted you to see. And at that moment he wanted you to see the way he saw you, the point of view he saw every day - a beautiful, intelligent, unshakable young woman who he was very slowly falling in love with. 

You don’t know how long the two of you stare at each other. It probably would have been an uncomfortable amount of time if anyone else had been in the room. But you had never noticed how handsome Maxwell Lord’s features were before and now you are so close, it wouldn’t take much to reach out and trace a few of the wrinkles forming around his eyes. He moves slightly and a hair falls out of place and before thinking you reach up and tuck it back into place. As your hand runs over the side of his face his eyes close at your touch, and you don't remove your hand from his face. 

You feel one of his hands reach around and place itself on the small of your back. Your mind can’t seem to register what you are doing as you reach your other hand around and place it gently on Maxwell’s neck. You’re really close to him now, you can feel his breath on your face and his other hand wraps around your body, pulling you closer. Max closes his eyes as he brings his forehead down and rests it gently to yours. You don’t want to close your eyes, too focused on the man in front of you, absorbed in the handsomeness of his features, wanting to make sure you take in every single piece of him while you can because you don’t know how long this moment will last. There is something else there, a gentleness you don’t normally see from Maxwell Lord, but you like it. He looks perfect like this. 

“I’m so sorry I did this to you. I never meant to. I hope you know that.”

You lean forward into his chest embarrassed that he is apologizing to you of all people for some strange reason and start to laugh.

“I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, Mr. Lord.”

“Max, call me Max, please.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat and you pull back to look at him. You're so close now, you could close the distance and you would be _kissing_ Maxwell Lord. Holy fuck, you can’t believe you are even thinking about this. You _should not_ be here. What are you doing? Holy fuck this is stupid. You should not even be thinking about how badly you wanted to kiss him at that moment in time, but you do, so when the next words leave his lips, you don’t really let him finish before you make your decision.

“Would it be alright if I kissed - ”

Now as you lazily look up from your station in the lobby at Maxwell’s intimidating office doors you just never really stopped kissing him after that day.

Of course, all of the girls had instantly noticed when Maxwell started to prefer the days when you sat in the lead station and so you grew cautious. This started happening more and more frequently after nearly a year of being intimate with Max, and long before you developed such a strong attachment to him, but still you didn’t want to risk anything. Maxwell didn’t seem as set on keeping your affair a secret, but when he saw the look of absolute dread that crossed your face when he even mentioned anyone else finding out, he agreed that it would remain between the two of you. No matter what. 

So you forced Max into being mean to you in front of others. Particularly in front of the other girls. At first, he was almost comical, the attempts he made at being ‘mean’, it was more just pointing out physical features - ‘your hair is different today than yesterday’ ‘your shirt is red, not blue like hers, I think I like hers better’ ‘you wore pants today, that’s odd isn’t it for when it’s not raining’ - but the girls took notice. So you encouraged Maxwell to continue, and you really aren’t sure if he would’ve until he realized that….actually, you liked it. You really liked it. 

Once Maxwell knew that however, all bets were off. But when he was cruel to you the only thing running through your mind was all the ways he would make it up to later - comments on your appearance would be made up with extra time kissing you, showing just how much he enjoyed whatever he tried to pretended not to, comments about your laziness would be made up with him thrusting into you for as long as you could take it, whimpering and begging him to keep going, comments on intelligence would be made up with him lightly stroking your hair with your head in his lap as he listened to all your stupid yet sometimes brilliant ideas. 

_Darling, I am about to send the team out to look for you_

_Where are you_

You look around the lobby. You see Cassandra glare at you as soon as you make a single motion. She clearly doesn’t trust you are here to work, which you have to hand it to her this time - for once the bitch is right.

You were trying to make your relationship with Maxwell Lord work, which meant you needed to get a few things to move in with him. Which means you needed money, which means Max wanted to give you access to one of his bank accounts and a credit card or two. Literally, a sentence that every woman in New York City dreamed of hearing. But you were indifferent about it, instead timidly grabbing your phone from the desk and trying to send a secret text. 

You had come to the office with little fanfare after Max had called you that morning asking you to meet with his ‘financial guy’, Carlisle, to get it all sorted out. But Max hadn’t let anyone know that you weren’t working there anymore. Or rather, you hadn’t let them know you were going to quit. You still weren’t entirely sure where you stood on the whole job situation since Max had promised he would figure out something for you to do. What that something would be, well, that was to be determined still. 

_Im here_

_At the office_

You type it quickly and send it before you think either of the other girls sees it. 

Cass and Gwen were furious when they saw you stroll in this morning. You’d thought it had been very nice of you to bring them their boba orders, which you remind yourself, _you didn’t have to do that._ But you thought it would be a token of goodwill since now you were, well, fucking their boss and could have them fired on a whim. And you really wanted to - but you were bigger and better than that. On most days anyway.

But they were _seriously_ testing that theory. 

_U R at the office?_

_Where_

_I need you in here_

_Have meeting w/ Wayne in 20_

_Want to see you, not that. But you know the deal with Wayne_

You smile, one of the world’s most powerful men had taken a few seconds out of his day to send a text to remind you that he wanted to see you. You had played along with Cass and Gwen long enough now, Max clearly needed to get on with his day so your little power fantasy needed to end. You stand up from behind the desk making your way to Max’s office door taking a sip from your boba not minding the shocked looks from the other two, glancing down at your phone to see another message from Max - just a line of a bunch of heart emojis.

“Excuse me? Where the fuck do you think you going? You are on the phones,” Cassandra is glaring at you with her arms crossed. Her curly hair is bouncing in front of her face as she twists her head to look at Gwen. “Gwen can’t do all the work around here.”

“Yeah, some of us care about teamwork,” Gwen calls as she stacks some papers neatly to the side of her desk. “But all you care about is being a twat.”

You slurp up a boba from your cup not even bothering to look up at either of them, completely disinterested in having this conversation. 

“Mmkay, cool. Thanks for that,” you pat Cass on the shoulder. “Max needs to see me, so you all can chill there,” you shoot Gwen a wink as you slide past.

Cass jumps in front of you, stopping you from moving any further, physically barring you from touching the handles.

“Oh my god, I don’t care if you think you can be _the_ sluttiest because you think you can wear whatever you want now. Like this outfit. Really? Everyone knows that you have been trying to get in Max’s pants, and honestly you are so sad to me. He won’t ever like you like that. No matter what you wear, no matter what you try,” she rolls her eyes at you. 

You stare at her a little dumbfounded by this outburst. She was always rude to you, that’s a given. But you didn’t realize it came from a place of….was that jealousy you sensed in her tone?

She grabs your elbow and guides you back to the phones desk as two of the phones light up and she points. “I don’t know what is going on with you, babe. But we’re worried about you. And one more slip up and I’m going to have a serious conversation with Mr. Lord about your future here.”

You loved this. You loved this so much. You didn’t care if Max was late to every meeting for the rest of the day, he was going to have to understand how important this was to you. He was just going to have to. You lean back in your chair and fake a look of total devastation. 

“Oh my god, I had no idea you cared so much about me, Cassandra.”

“We really do babe, now why don’t you answer the phone since we all want you here?”

The fakeness of the grin is astonishing, but in a way, you feel sad knowing it is likely the last time your co-worker will treat you with any sense of fake niceness. In a moment they were about to become truly fearful of the power you’d hold over them. Your relationship with Max was going to change the way every person in this building viewed you, and while it would be awesome because it meant you could get away with just about anything, you would miss the sense of equalness that you felt right now. You didn’t like the idea of being above others, because you weren’t. You were you. You weren’t better or worse than anyone else, but that was all about to change. Gwen watches you reach for the phone with a smug smile on her face.

You pick up the phone then instantly throw it back down. Gwen looks shocked by the gesture, standing up and pointing at you speechless. Cass didn't see you do it so when she turns and watches you pull out your phone, propping your feet up on the desk, ignoring the phones as they continue to ring, she doesn’t look angry, but rather very confused. 

_They won’t let me in to see you :(_

You hit send and decide to let whatever happens, happen in the next 30 seconds before Maxwell appears to rescue you. 

“Did I not make myself clear?” Cass puts on another one of her signature fake grins as she addresses you. You take another long sip of your tea. 

“ _Shejusthunguponsomeone_!” Gwen says it so fast, and it is a high pitched squeak, you don’t think Cass even understands her, because without context you could’ve. 

“Okay, that’s it, Who do you think you are showing up here like this?”

“I don’t know, Cass? Who do you think I am?”

“You have the _nerve_?! You should be begging me not to get your ass fired.”

You glance down at your phone. It remains silent and you count down the seconds, a grin slowly spreading across your features, thinking of how far you can push your co-workers in the next few moments. “You think I should be begging you? Tell me Cass, what did I do wrong this time?”

“You’re a fucking bitch. I cannot believe you march in here after a week and just expect me to believe that you were “emotionally distressed” and not doing some stupid crazy fucking thing for your idiot freeloading mother? Like you do every time you skip out of here,” she turns around like she is done with her speech, but then she turns and looks at you again. “And okay one other thing you are such an asshole. You _honestly_ think boba is gonna make up for just not showing up? And you really think he’ll let you suck his dick just cause you show up in thigh-high boots and a short skirt? Think again sweetie, you ain’t his type.”

“Shit, Cass, these were expensive. If you know so much, what is his type then?” You purposefully put the straw in your mouth as you say this and suck. She rolls her eyes as she turns her back. 

“It would never be, you twat, you’re too bossy,” Gwen says angrily in your direction. 

Max bursts through the door looking upset before he registers your appearance. “Darling, Carlisle is here and he needs - ” he stops when he sees how bright and happy the smile on your face remains when you look between the girls and Maxwell. He casts a look at Cass and Gwen, before his eyes land back on you. “Why are you behind the desk?” He clearly was not thrilled to see you sitting - lounging really - behind your old desk. 

“I'm being reprimanded here. Cass doesn’t seem to like my outfit, so she put me on the phones,” you are grinning from ear to ear as you say this and slowly turn to regard Gwen and Cassandra who are staring at the unraveling conversation with their mouths agape. 

“And Cassandra said that to you, _my darling_?” 

There is very little you wouldn’t sacrifice in this world to have the image of Cass’s face when those two words leave Max’s mouth captured and printed. The realization of who you are to Max must hit her hard because she looks utterly, and completely bewildered. But the realization of just exactly how she’s treated you over the past two years and what she’s said about you - both to your face and behind your back - must follow because next, she looks like she might actually be violently ill. 

“No big deal,” you shrug it off. “Just a misunderstanding, right girls?” They are both too shocked to say anything and nod numbly in your direction. You look thrilled as you gaze at Max, he offers you his hand and you stand, taking it and brushing off your short skirt and boots making sure to make an extra show of it, just to really rub in your point. The silence is palpable as Max looks between Gwen and Cass, who just stand, looking mortified.

“Oh, Gwen? Max is taking me to lunch, can you make reservations? Something light if you wouldn’t mind? Maybe Thai, but I actually don’t want Asian today, but maybe something Hawaiian. Mmm, hard to know? I’m sure you can figure it out, you’re smart. Thanks!” You make sure to make the instructions as frustratingly as unspecific as possible before throwing her a wink. Max puts his hand on the small of your back and moves you inside his office closing the doors behind him, leaving two very flustered looking women in your wake. 

“I can’t take you to lunch,” he whispers in your ear. “I am sorry darling, but this merger is turning out to be - ”

“Oh I know, I can’t go to lunch either,” You stop and put a hand on his chest. “I got that meeting you set up for me, with the dude from the library. I just wanted to see how it felt. Giving them orders,” you make a show of reaching up and kissing him knowing that his financial guy was watching the entire interaction. “Felt good if I’m being honest, real good.”

“Well, get used to it then.” He pulls away and looks at Carlisle. “She’s all yours, Carlisle, get her all set up with whatever she needs. Today. I need it working for her today.”

“Right, first things first, young lady,” Carlisle Barten was Maxwell’s financial advisor. Well, that’s what he called himself anyways. Max didn’t actually ever listen to anything he advised him to do. For one, giving you unlimited access to his money he disagreed strongly with. But he did handle all the legal side of Maxwell’s finances so that’s why he was here today. 

“Did you hear that Max, he thinks I’m a lady,” you giggle as you extend your hand for him to shake, Max chooses to ignore your comment. He doesn’t appreciate the way Carlisle has been talking about you in private conversations and has expressed as much to you. You have a feeling that Carlisle wasn’t picking up on this, and you were thrilled by the idea of seeing how Max will react now that you don’t need to conceal your relationship. The idea of Max standing up for you, to another powerful business partner - well, let’s just say the ache between your legs was already there just thinking about it.

“Yes, well I need you to pay close attention, can you do that for me, sweetheart?” You stand there for a minute. The tone he takes with you is absolutely amazing - a grown man is talking to you like you are a child. Not only that but he had the audacity to speak to like that in front of Max, he must really, honestly think less of you. But for the first time, you don’t mind the blatant sexism this man is demonstrating because for the first time you really do hold the upper hand so all you do is nod along eagerly. 

“Oh boy, I sure hope I can, mister,” you say in the breathiest, ditziest voice possible. You note Max’s face, a stern look telling you to tone it down. You ignore him completely, instead of taking the chair opposite the man you lift yourself up onto Max’s rather tall desk, so you are sitting with your legs dangling and looking down at the man. Carlisle looks displeased with this move but chooses to say nothing. 

“Maxwell Lord is choosing to give you access to some of his rather considerable assets. Some of his assets,” he emphasizes.

“Mmhmm, that’s right! And my daddy told me that this meeting is so when he leaves me that I won’t take half.”

Carlisle does a wild double-take between you and Max, but you don’t break your blank stare at the man, only briefly fluttering your lashes, as you grin at him doing your best impression of what you thought a man must like in bimbo type.

“Honey, let’s tone it down, shall we.”

“Yes, but of course, daddy,” when you turn and look at Max, his expression is mostly one of amusement, but you can tell he also wants you to take this a little seriously. This was, in a way, a test run of your relationship. It was your first official meeting together, as a couple. So you take a deep breath and push your ill-feelings away, wanting this to go well. For Max’s sake, at the very least.

“I don’t expect you to understand the finer points of all this. Or really any of the larger points for that matter.” 

Oh, fuck no. The fact that this man thought he could talk to you like this was amazing. In front of Max, no less. He really thought he could question your intelligence like that and just walk out of here. You glance back at Max but he is too absorbed in whatever notes he is looking over to see the distraught expression you wear, but you make a decision. You didn’t go through two years of mental distress to not have a little fun now. You had come too far.

So when you turn around you put on the biggest, fakest grin in the world and you lift your leg up and over the other, clearly revealing you were….nearly bare, almost - but not quiet - exposing yourself to him, wanting to make it appear like a dizzy, air-headed mistake because you were so focused and concentrated on his mansplaining words. He watches your actions closely and you see him take a huge gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his face suddenly flustered beyond reason, turning a deep red as he shuffles through his papers, refusing to make eye contact with you or Max. Hopefully this teaches him so he understands that in front of your very wealthy and notoriously possessive boyfriend, no one gets to disrespect you. 

“Is something the matter Carlisle?” Max doesn’t even glance up as he continues to stumble over his words. 

“Yes, Mr. Carlisle, is something the matter?” Your voice sounds so shallow and breathy, it’s unrecognizable. He looks up at you and for a brief moment, you think he understands the game you are playing. You think maybe he sees past the facade you’ve put on. “I would hate for there to be a misunderstanding.”

“No, nothing at all,” he clears his throat, no longer looking you in the eye and instead focusing just on the papers in his hands. “But, you see, there are just a few things we need to tie up first. First, when you were hired, you agreed not to use any company money for personal gain. Pretty standard business contract. So, the personal accounts Max is planning on giving you access to are off-limits - ”

“Max’s personal assets aren’t in company capital though?” He looks at you as he is about to hand you a piece of paper, briefly impressed by the bare minimum of the understanding you had just displayed. You. A business major. _Un-fucking-believable._

“Regardless, Maxwell agreed that for legal reasons the easiest thing to do is to terminate your tenure with this company.”

You whirl around. “You’re firing me?!”

“For now,” again Max doesn’t even look up from his iPad, and you are suddenly very irked by his inability to give you the news himself. 

“I didn’t know you were displeased with my performance, _Mr. Lord_ ,” You bite.

“I do believe most people would consider this a raise, darling,” he glances up for the briefest moment with a smirk.

You frown at him. He’s right. Of course, he’s right. You are about to gain access to hundreds of millions of dollars. Literally, so much money you had no way of comprehending it. You have no plan on how to spend it. The only thing you can think to do is pay off your debt. Maybe buy a car. A house for your mom. Things that most people would consider boring. No lavish vacation, or huge shopping spree, just a few things to make life a little more comfortable. And maybe a nice purse or something to rub in Cass’s face. So you shouldn’t be complaining about losing your job when you were literally getting the world in return. 

“You sign this,” Carlisle hands you a paper with a pen. You glance it over. “It’s a standard contract on termination. Once that’s signed….” his voice trails off. You look back at Max, and he gives you a stern nod in return. You sigh, and with your signature ‘fuck it shrug’ you sign the paper. Carlisle takes it back, glancing it over before tucking it into his briefcase. He hands you a card. It’s metal, heavy and unlike anything you’ve ever owned before. 

“Maxwell, I have been your financial advisor for nearly two decades and I strongly protest this decision,” the man scowls at you as you continue to examine the metal card in your hand amazed at its heaviness. No way this was going to fit in a machine - that part was obviously a joke, this card was just for show or something.

“Carlisle, your concern is noted. Just have her sign whatever else needs to be signed and activate the damn cards,” Max sounds annoyed as he waves his hand still sitting behind the desk. You pretend to not be aware of the tension in the room as you swing your legs, just looking between Carlisle and Max happily. “She has an appointment to make.”

“Coke dealer, he doesn’t like it when I’m late,” you wink. You hold up the card as you admire how shiny it is up close. “He will love these cards, however. Much easier to do lines off of.”

You hear Max give a soft snort behind you before Carlisle hands you another card. “These two cards are _credit cards_. Use it for all goods. Honestly, I won’t bother explaining how the interest rate works and why - ”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” you bring the card up to your mouth. You bite down on the card trying to bend it. You are pleased to find it is unbendable and very metallic tasting, you look to Carlisle with a smile. “I only make money on my knees. And I only know how to spend it in the triple figures.”

Carlisle hitches his pants up and glares at you before handing you a piece of paper. You can tell he does not find any of this amusing - but you really do. 

“The cards are active. This ATM card,” he pulls out another one that is also shiny and new and you eagerly take it. “It'll work at any of the banks. You just need to pick your PIN, which you will activate here,” he hands you a small business card with a phone number on it. “This is Rita. She is Mr. Lord’s personal secretary at the bank. When you need to handle anything to do with money, you call her. She is going to set everything with you, security-wise too. Call her as soon as I leave.” 

You smile as you look at the cards in your hand with a devilish grin on your face as you look at Max. You know what Carlisle is thinking, every single person aware of the situation is thinking it - Maxwell was giving you a blank check to spend his money. There was currently no legal agreement so you could in theory spend a whole lot of his money on whatever the hell you wanted, and there was not a lot Max could do to stop you. 

You knew everyone was thinking it and you loved it. You were floating on it, not because you were planning on spending any of the money on the crazy, expensive, and elaborate purchases you know everyone thought you would - but simply because now you could if you wanted to. You held a power above every single person in this building. And it felt good. 

What felt even better than all that though is the trust Maxwell instilled in you just now. He is trusting you with his fortune, the thing he had worked hardest for in this life. And he was willing to trust and share it with you. And only you. 

“I thank you again for doing this on short notice Carlisle,” Maxwell escorts him out of the office. You can hear him trying to speak with him in a hushed tone, urging him to reconsider this decision. You see Max tense up, clearly annoyed that he is bringing it up once again. You just look at the card still in your hand, still trying to process your emotions. 

The door closes behind him and Max claps his hands as he turns around. “Well, glad that’s all settled. Now you can go crazy with all my money.” He walks forward, taking you by the neck and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I want to celebrate sweetie, I do. Our relationship being official and all. But the meeting.”

“I know. Let me get you a drink at least and be on my way.”

“That’s not your job anymore, I just fired you.”

“I can still get you a coffee, Mr. Lord. You did just sorta give me access to your entire whole fortune. It feels like it’s the least I can do.”

“Honey, I have to ask, do you truly think I keep all my money in one place? In one bank?” You can see he is teasing you with the way he eyes you like he is trying to find a way to egg you on. You turn and smile at him, as you bite your index finger seductively. 

“Course, I do. I’m just your stupid girlfriend remember?” you throw him a wink and give him a little curtsy. “Besides Max, how can I possibly know how money works when all I do is spend your money?”

“I am getting a sense you still don’t like this arrangement,” Max eyes you with suspicion as you make your way over to his office bar, ready to make him fresh pour over coffee. Like you had hundreds of times before. 

“Actually, quite the opposite,” you smile.

“Then how does all this sound so…..unlike you? And what is the deal with this outfit,” he smirks as he motions at the tiny, low-cut dress and thigh-high boots. “I’m not complaining at all, it just isn’t very you.” 

“Wait till you see what’s underneath, or should I say what’s not underneath,” you giggle as you pour the hot water over the coffee grounds. 

“Ah, I see now,” you hear him chuckle softly and you feel him move a few loose hairs away from your neck before pressing a kiss just below your ear and whispering. “So that’s why Carlisle was so nervous with you sitting on the desk like that. Did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“He was treating me like I was an idiot, Max,” you state plainly. “Of course I wanted to make him sweat.”

Max is quiet for a moment as he wraps his arms around your waist as you both watch the hot water slowly dripping down over the coffee grounds into the mug. He doesn’t say anything, you just feel him tenderly moving his hands up the sides of your waist, and down your arms. You close your eyes. You could get used to this, just being here with him, in his office, not having to hide or worry about someone walking in, just existing with him, content and happy.

Finally, he breaks the silence with a barely audible whisper in your ear. “Do you want me to fire him?”

You’re surprised by this question. You open your eyes fully as you consider his words carefully, slowly turning in his arms, tilting your head, and biting your lip, trying to really think your thoughts through before you give Max your answer. “No. Sure, he’s a misogynistic asshole, but I know he has got kids. And I know they don’t deserve that.” 

Max’s hands make their way to your chin and gently guide your eyes to his. “If he’s an asshole, especially one like that, and to my girl of all people, then he shouldn’t be allowed to inflict his damage on others. No matter what his circumstances are.”

“Well, I guess. But I don't want his kids to like starve or some shit because I decided to have him fired on a whim just because I can now, ya know? Doesn’t seem right.” 

Max chuckles softly. “You really are amazing, you know that?” he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Carlisle’s family is going to be just fine. Trust me, I’ve known them, and all his wives. I am sure he can sell one of his Rolexes if things get too difficult.” 

Before you think of an answer there is a loud beep from one of the desk phones and you hear Gwen’s voice reminding Max that he has his conference call in two minutes. 

“Go,” you nod towards his desk. “I know how you like you coffee, Mr. Lord.” You can feel a hesitation in his grip around your waist. You shoo him towards his desk. You turn back around to finish preparing Max’s coffee, in the hyper-specific way he likes. “Go! Do you want me to stay for a little bit or….?” 

You ask it nonchalantly, not really thinking much of it. You didn’t have anything to do for the next hour or so until you needed to meet with some random man Max had insisted would help you with the business you wanted to start. You didn’t want to remind him that it was a half-formed idea at best and not something you ever planned on actively pursuing. 

When you turn back around with a steaming hot mug in hand, Max is still looking at you from the same spot, running a finger along his bottom lip. He is looking at you with such amusement in his eye that you feel like you must’ve missed something really funny. 

“Did you know that you brought me the wrong coffee order every day for the last two years?”

“What are you talking about? I know how you like it. Black coffee with two little ice cubes floating at the top. Pinch of sugar. Stirred. Sprinkle of cinnamon. Not stirred.”

“Well, now it is, yes.”

“What...what do you mean?” 

“I like it this way now,” he smiles, taking the steaming mug out of your hands. “I only liked it this way to be sure you were always the one to bring it. I wanted to make sure that it was you to keep coming back every morning and afternoon.”

“Oh my god, Max, you could have told me how you like your coffee for God’s sake. Now I feel like I was terrible at my job. Why didn’t you just tell me?” He walks back over to his desk. 

“I told you, darling, you make me very nervous.”

The phone starts to ring and you roll your eyes at Max’s cheesiness. You plop down in the seat across from his desk, taking no care in sitting carefully and making sure Max notices before pulling out your phone. “Okay, well, I guess I make you nervous but destroying the world and this company doesn’t. Got it, Mr. Lord.”

You see him stop at your words as he reaches for the phone, regarding you for a moment. It isn’t often Maxwell Lord surprises you, but today he does. 

“Gwen, I am still on my other call, can you please tell them to hold?”

You look up from your phone in surprise. 

“You’re putting Thomas Wayne on hold?” You are delighted, you love the idea of wasting that son of bitches time for no reason whatsoever, it seemed like a great idea for a joke. 

“Explain.”

“Explain what?” You look up from your phone surprised. 

“What you just said, explain it.”

“Wait, now you want my opinion on this merger, as you’re about to talk to the fucking people about it? Max, you cannot be serious?”

“I am serious. You did the research for this one, didn’t you? That's what I paid you for right?”

“Well, you paid me for a lot of things,” you try to turn on the charm but you can tell Max is not amused by this so you stop that train of thought quickly.

“Not now. I need you to tell me what you just meant.”

“Max, you know this is a bad business decision.”

“Yes but why? And give me a good _business_ reason, not a hippie one.” 

You throw him a scowl. 

“Besides the very clear environmental impacts this will have, which it will, and they are all bad, very bad, but legal, somehow. The financials are actually a lot worse. I don’t have anything….in front of me to give you the figures and stuff, because,” you shrug a little as you display your outfit again. Max rolls his eyes and just motions for you to continue. You stand up and walk to the front of his desk, tapping your fingers nervously. This was the last thing you expected to be doing after your boyfriend signed over his checkbook to you, but in a way you find it fitting. You stand awkwardly, as you try to remember all the information you had poured into your brain for months that had suddenly and magically vanished. 

“Okay, well the basic overview; you know, better than anyone fossil fuels is a dying industry,” he nods, you can tell he is slightly impatient by your inability to perform under the pressure of this moment, but he is trying to be kind about it, which you appreciate. You take one more deep breath before diving in. “Your wife has a huge stake in a lot of oil companies, yours included. Not just her but everyone in her ‘inner circle’. By merging these companies you are going to allow them to monetize on the deregulations in the industry like never before. Combined, all her companies would control 89% of the energy supply of the United States.”

“I know all of this darling, this all seems like an argument for doing it.”

“No, Max, you might make a lot of money for the next few years with net profits increasing significantly, but you know fossil fuels are rapidly depleting. I mean generously, we have another, maybe 30 years? Possibly? But from the research I did, I don’t think it’ll be close to that! If you merge you lose your ability to control your own assets because you will dilute your shares by nearly 21.3% in this company that _you built_. So how can you plan a future here and how to invest if you don’t have any control in the company?”

“That’s not necessarily true,” you can tell he doesn’t like where you are going with this. There is a beep from the phone but before Gwen’s voice comes on the line Max hits the button and silences her. 

“Max, you know I don’t care about the money. But I do care about you. If you decide to take over the other company you dilute your shares. You are not going to have any control, but well, Evelyn will. She will become the most powerful oil baron in the US. Likely the world.” 

His face is set in a hard scowl. “You think I haven’t thought about this? I don’t have much of a choice. I need to have a five-year investment plan that these investors like, and they like this.”

“No, they don’t.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“They think they do, but investors don’t know what they want. Come on, Max. You know the market. People want new. People want exciting. People want to be a part of the future. So give them that.”

“People want money, darling,” he leans back in his chair and sighs. You stand and walk around the desk, you tap his arm and he opens them and you crawl into his lap. “Although, I admit I might be dating the one exception to that rule.”

“I like money, Max. It’s just not what’s most important to me. And surprisingly I’m the more normal one here,” you kiss his forehead. “Max, you are smarter than these people. You’ve proved it. You did it all alone. They didn’t. So do it again.” 

“What would you do then?” he asks softly as he touches your face affectionately. 

“I’d probably tell Thomas Wayne he can shove a stick up his butt.”

“And then?” Max chuckles.

“Then I think I would find fancy ways to invest in long-term sustainable solutions to all these crises we are facing,” you playfully run your finger down his nose. “But I’m a hippie, remember?”

“You are so goddamn smart,” he says with so much admiration in his voice. “And you really do care about people, don’t you? ‘ _Long-term sustainable solutions_ ’. You know I didn’t hear that once out of any of these people’s mouths in all of these meetings. I’m starting to think all they care about is money.” 

You giggle as you collapse forward onto his chest. “Well, this conversation feels about a month too late.”

“You asked not to be involved in any of the meetings about this if I remember correctly?” 

“Yeah, because for one thing, all I ever did was think about fucking you in whatever conference room you locked us all in for what felt like hours whenever we did one of these stupid mergers and unilateral divisional corporate brainstorm meeting. And for another, I never thought you’d be an idiot about it, Max. But I guess from now on I’ll just have to keep a closer eye on you?”

“I suppose you will.” 

The buzzer comes on and Max sighs, you can hear another voice come on over the phone. A new voice chimes in. A very, very nervous Saddie, a girl you actually liked and respected, came on the other end, her voice high-pitched and cracking. “Mr. Lord, I am so sorry to bother you during another call but everyone is wanting to know when you will be joining them.” 

“Saddie, have Cassandra cancel the meeting. And make sure she doesn’t set another one.” 

You look at him with wide eyes, then smile slyly. 

“That was mean, Mr. Lord.”

“I got cold feet.”

“I would really hate for you to imply I had anything to do with this very major business decision.”

“No, I simply sought the counsel of a former employee who advised me against it.”

“I swear to god, if that’s the spin you put on this to the media, I’m going to be furious with you. People will figure out it was me.”

“Honey, the second you paraded in here with that outfit people knew it was you.”

“You don’t like my outfit?” You pout.

“Don’t change the topic like that,” he frowns at you. You glare at him, not liking when you are forced to confront the reality of why you shift the focus of conversations. Max had gotten much better at calling you out on it, and while you appreciate him for helping identify your feelings, it was still _annoying_ hell. “There’s no going back now. You knew that coming in today. You knew that as soon as you fucked around with Cassandra.” 

“Yeah, no I did.”

“You know your life is about to change.”

“Yeah, no Max, I do.” You feel him tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“Then why aren’t you looking at me, sweetheart?”

You slowly turn your eyes up and look up at his expression. “I just don’t want this to change anything. With you and me. The other stuff I can take. A change with you. I wouldn’t….”

“Are you seriously worried about me?”

“You don’t want me to answer that, Max.”

“No, I don’t. Not until I’m going to like the answer.”

“I do like my new credit card though. I’m very thankful,” you lean forward and kiss him fully. You take his face in your hands and run your fingers through his hair pulling him into you. When you break away you smirk. “So, how much am I allowed to spend? Like weekly?”

“How much do you want to spend?”

“I'm asking if there's a limit, Mr. Lord?”

“Do you want me to give you a limit?” You see the way his lips twitch ever so slightly, you know he finds everything about this so amusing. He knows you, and he knows you want the structure of him telling you what you can and can’t do because he knows how much you crave that sense of security, of knowledge, and organization. But you want to show Max that maybe you can surprise him, that maybe he doesn’t know you. Not fully, at least. Not yet. 

“You can try. But only because I want to disobey you.”

⇄♡⇆ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ perropascal


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